Method of Love
by The Moonlily
Summary: A dilemma: what to do when you meet an attractive stranger at the library and both of you are awkward idiots? Éothiriel modern AU
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Method of Love

**Rating: **T

**Pairings: **Éomer/Lothíriel

**Genre: **Romance/Drama

**Summary: **A dilemma: what to do when you meet an attractive stranger at the library and both of you are awkward idiots? Éothiriel modern AU.

**Disclaimer:** The Lord of The Rings is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate. This is a work of fanfiction, written for the enjoyment of myself and others. No financial profit is made by writing this.

**Author's Note: **I hadn't thought I would try my hand at modern AUs again, but here we are. I can't really say where this one came from - the idea came to me almost full-grown. After drafting a few paragraphs, I decided to go for it, especially since I felt like I was in the need of something lighter for change. I doubt this will be a very long story, but we'll see.

As ever, all your comments are most welcome. Let me know what you think!

* * *

**Chapter 1**

This paper was going to kill her.

After three long nights of study, Lothíriel had still not managed to fill out more than half of the required word count of her essay on research methods. She had been staying at the library until closing hours and by his sour looks, she knew the janitor was getting tired of having to shoo her out after barely managing to return her piles of books, gathering her notes, and getting rid of whatever rubbish she had littered her surroundings with. She wasn't normally a slovenly person, but this particular essay seemed to be bringing out the worst in her.

Rubbing the back of her neck, she looked up from the open laptop before her. Marine biology had been her passion since childhood, but this past semester, she had really been struggling with her studies. She guessed it all went back to her cousin Boromir and Uncle Denethor. Their untimely deaths had left the whole extended family in a state of disorder for a while. Family business had not been going that well, either. At least lately, things seemed to be getting better. Faramir had emerged from his grieving with the help of his girlfriend and thanks to the alliance with the ever tireless Aragorn, the company was recovering.

Things were looking well, but her essay wasn't. And that was why she was spending her Saturday afternoon working, when her brothers were already on the open sea, sailing their family's boat. Knowing she could have been there with them made her skin crawl with frustration.

To distract herself from that depressing thought, she glanced about in the library. Few other people were around. A librarian, a young guy who had repeatedly tried to flirt with her, was pushing a cart filled with returned books. A pair of teenagers were entrenched in two big armchairs, whispering between themselves. A mother of two small children was hushing her offspring and an elderly man was engrossed in a newspaper, completely oblivious to the world. In fact, it was quite absurd that she would first take note of these people she so often saw in the library first, and only then notice _him. _

The man was fricking _gorgeous. _Even in fluorescent light, his long golden hair, arrayed in a ponytail, seemed to bask in its own shine. A darker shade full beard, neatly trimmed, covered his chin and cheeks. Normally she didn't pay much heed to bearded guys, but on him it just _worked. _His features were strong and even, his prow proud, and his mouth implied iron will, even stubbornness. Although he was slumped in his chair at a desk not that far from her and was staring at his laptop, she could tell he was of the athletic type, all long legs and strong shoulders. Of his profession nothing could be said by his clothing: a faded leather jacket, dark jeans, green shirt. Who was this man? She had never seen him around, and this wasn't _that _big a city. She would remember him if he were local.

And then, at the same moment she realised she was ogling at this strange man, he looked up. Dark, piercing eyes stared at her quizzically. Lothíriel blushed and quickly lowered her own eyes to her open Word document, but the words she had written were a blur. She intensely wished she could just sink through the floor and never be seen again.

She felt the eyes on her for some time, and so she pretended to be working, checking something in her notebook and then reading her email. But all the while, she was more aware of _him _than anything in her immediate proximity. Eventually, she dared to peek up once more. The man had returned to his own business and was typing something. She let out a breath she had not noticed holding.

Lothíriel tried to work. She checked her notes again and went through what she had written so far. Occasionally she flipped through one of her books, but every time, she found her gaze drawn to him sooner or later, and most of what she had read so far vanished from her mind. Was it just her imagination or did he look as frustrated as she felt? Who was he, and what had brought him to this library? Did he have family in the region?

Another fifteen minutes had gone by, and she had spent it obsessing over some stranger and not working. The thought made her feel ashamed and frustrated. She took pride in her work ethic, and until now, no guy had been able to distract her thusly.

Lothíriel sighed and decided to find out whether some coffee might spike her focus. However, her aquamarine travel mug was nowhere to be seen, and a quick search of her messenger bag revealed it was not there, either. Then she recalled she had left it standing on the counter of her tiny kitchen.

She groaned out loud. No inspiration, no coffee, and an outrageously handsome man ruining what little was left of her focus! Well, at least there was a small café on the first floor. Better go and get a cup there.

So she closed her laptop and put it in her bag, but she left rest of her things on the table, knowing she'd be here a while yet. Quickly she headed downstairs and strode with purpose for the café. The cashier smiled at her; she was one of the regulars here, and was friendly with most of the personnel. But today, she was too distracted to stop by for a chat. She paid for her coffee, picked up the cup and turned a little too quickly.

And ran straight into _him. _

The cup went flying with a shocked little _"__oh!" _from her. She might have spilled it all on him, but thanks to the plastic lid, only a few drops landed on his shirt. The rest streamed on the floor, as much as the drinking hole in the lid allowed.

Her cheeks burning, Lothíriel knelt down to pick up the cup and prevent further damage. But at the same moment she reached for it, he did too. The cup rolled away, spreading more hot coffee on the polished floor.

"Fuck!" he growled under his breath, while she squeaked "Sorry!"

Witnessing them as a pair of incompetent fools, the cashier arrived with a rag to clean up the mess.

"It's alright", she said, catching the cup and using the rag to manage the spill. "I've got it."

"I'm so sorry!" Lothíriel said as she stood up, once again hoping the floor might open and swallow her whole. He must think her such a weirdo! This was just her luck, first get caught staring at him like some moron and then go on spilling her coffee on him! No wonder she didn't get a lot of invitations to dates!

He stood up as well, and she noted he was one tall guy, even taller than her brothers. She had to tilt her face upwards to meet his eyes. And he wasn't just tall, but broad, too. Up close, his presence was really quite imposing; in a strange impulse she wondered if he had some kind of military background.

"It's okay. I shouldn't have been standing so close to you", he said and cracked such a charming, heartbreaking smile that she felt like her knees turned into jelly right there. Elbereth! Today she had managed the folly of highest degree: making herself a complete fool before the most attractive guy she had ever met.

"No, it's not your fault. I was just distracted", she mumbled. Her cheeks still felt hot enough to boil an egg.

"Let me replace that. I was getting coffee, anyway", he offered, still smiling. Why did he have to smile like that?!

"No, I can't possibly -" Lothíriel began to stammer, but he wouldn't let her finish.

"I insist", the man said, effectively silencing her.

And that's how she found herself, not ten minutes later, seated outside the library on a bench. It was a very pretty day – another reason to regret not being able to join her brothers – and so he had suggested they take their drinks outside. Lothíriel felt so dazed, she would probably climb on the roof if he had wanted to take their coffees there.

"So, what brings you to the library today?" he asked when they had taken seat on the bench. The park next to the library was pretty nice, and she sometimes came to read there. Upon arriving today she had decided working outside would only remind her of what she was missing out, though.

"I should be writing this paper for my course. It hasn't been going so well", she replied, grimacing at the thought.

"You are a student, then?" he asked and took a sip of his coffee. It was black, she had noted earlier in the café, while she liked to dash her own with a little bit of milk and sugar.

"Yeah. Third year, but this semester hasn't been that good", she replied grimly. Deciding to lead the conversation away from herself, she asked him, "What about you? I haven't seen you around before."

"That's because I only just returned from overseas. I don't have a place of my own yet and I'm staying with my sister. But she has got a boyfriend these days, and I don't want to impose on them. I figured I would come here to search for jobs... and for some silence", he explained slowly, staring ahead with a strange look on his face. There was so much in his words that she wanted to ask about, but that would just be weird.

"What kind of jobs? And what do you mean by silence?" she asked him.

He let out a low, humourless laugh.

"I'm not sure how to answer that. I guess it all ties in. You see, I trained in the police academy before I left the country. I finished, too. But I was young and idealistic then. Wanted to make my mark and bring out the world peace. So I joined the Blue Berets and served five years with them", he explained.

Her coffee entirely forgotten, she stared at him with wide eyes. So her assumptions had not been wrong!

"How come you're back now? Did... did something happen?" she asked, and instantly regretted her curiosity. Maybe he had suffered some kind of a traumatic injury while on duty, or witnessed horrors that she could only imagine in her darkest nightmares. And whatever it might be, it was none of her business.

All the same, he didn't get angry or tell her how rude she was being.

"Yeah, I guess so. I was just disillusioned. It didn't feel like me being there added up to anything. And I saw how my brothers in arms abused their power... how they made the locals' lives even worse. I realised there's no change in this world as long as the rich and the powerful are allowed to prey on the vulnerable. So I decided to come back home, maybe do what I was trained for in the beginning. I think I have more power to put end to wrongs as a cop", he said, slow and grave, and her heart ached. Of course, she had read scandalous news stories about peacekeeping forces, and been horrified by them. But something about the way he spoke, the disgust and resentment in his voice, made it all the darker. He had been there and he had seen it happen. And yet he still had this drive to make the world a tiny bit better.

"That's... I don't know what to say. I'm just really sorry it turned out that way. It must be horrible", she said at last and felt immediately angry with herself. She should have come up with better words. But what could she tell this war-hardened cop-to-be? Her own life had been sheltered, and her passion was for marine life, not for peacekeeping. Fish did not know malice.

"It's okay. I've made my mistakes and learnt from them. Maybe I shouldn't say these things. I see it distresses you", he said, softer and kinder than she had expected him to be.

They were silent for a minute. But before it had a chance to grow too uncomfortable, she ventured to speak again.

"So, you are staying in the city?" Lothíriel asked him. Her coffee was now almost lukewarm, but she hardly recalled it.

"If I can get a job. My sister lives here, so I'd like to stay. But we'll see", he said quietly.

"I hope you do. It sounds like you've been through a lot", she said and cast him a smile. "It's a nice city, if a bit quiet."

"Quiet is great. After the past few years, it seems perfect", he said, and she recalled what he had said earlier about coming to the library for silence.

He looked straight at her then, clear and sharp.

"We've been talking enough about me and my baggage. But you haven't even told me yet what your major is", he noted, studying her intently.

"It's marine biology. How weird is that? But my family lives by the sea, and we always went out sailing when I was a child. And I spent so many hours on the beach... I have loved the sea since before I could walk. I always knew it was something I wanted to study when I grew up", she explained in fond tones as she recalled the carefree days of her childhood.

"That sounds great. Has your family always lived here?" he wanted to know, smiling slightly. The dull darkness had vanished from his eyes now that they were no longer talking about his past.

"Yes, we have – for generations. I think we all have a little bit of salt water in our veins. So it always made sense that I'd end up working with it, somehow. Even if today I wasn't having that good a time in my studies. I have this one essay that is just _killing _me..." Lothíriel complained, and it felt so good to just vent her frustration to him, no matter how silly it sounded after hearing about his troubles, and no doubt she would have kept on going hadn't his cellphone rang just then. He cast an apologetic glance at her way before answering.

Lothíriel tried not to listen too much, but she caught the general idea anyway: someone was wanting to meet him as soon as possible.

He put down his phone and coughed.

"Sorry. It was my sister. She wants to meet me..." he started to speak, but Lothíriel was already getting up.

"It's okay. I should be getting back to work anyway", she replied and stood up. Her coffee didn't feel that warm anymore, but it was caffeine, and it had been bought to her by him. She'd drink it, damn it. This could very well be the last coffee she ever had with a man, after all.

Lothíriel took a few steps away. When she glanced at him, she thought he looked like he wanted to ask her something. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. No sound came out.

Seeing his trouble, she hurried to aid him, "It was nice talking to you. Maybe I'll see you here again."

He looked at her strangely.

"Yeah. Maybe."

It was only back in the library that Lothíriel realised she hadn't even asked his name. Needless to say, she was quite wroth with herself.

* * *

Afterwards, Lothíriel had to admit she should have put together two and two. She was sure she had heard Faramir and Éowyn speaking of the brother overseas, and even making a comment on his profession. She was also sure one of them had at one point mentioned _he _had graduated a cop. Éowyn loved her brother dearly, not only because he was her only surviving family, and she did not spare her praise of him.

In her defence, she had been terribly preoccupied for this past year. Her studies, the art club where she was training at, the part time job at a sea-food restaurant... and there was the matter of Boromir and Uncle Denethor's deaths. She had been distracted.

All he same, until the very last minute, she had not a clue. Sure, she had known there would be a surprise party for Éowyn's newly arrived brother tonight. She had even set an alarm on her phone so that she would remember to leave the library in time to get ready and make her way a couple blocks down to Éowyn's apartment, where the celebration was held. But even then she still suspected nothing.

The two-bedroom apartment was quite crowded. Faramir and Éowyn were there, obviously, but so were her brothers, and Aragorn with his wife Arwen, and a bunch of friends from Éowyn and her brother's acquaintance. Lothíriel was a little bit surprised that Aragorn knew Éowyn's brother, but did not comment on it. The world these days was so small, it seemed everybody was somehow connected.

Even in that party she might have had a plenty of chances of figuring it out, but she arrived a bit late, and was only just greeting her brothers and asking about the sailing trip, when Éowyn suddenly clapped her hands to break the excited chatter in the apartment. Lothíriel narrowed her eyes. Why did her cousin's girlfriend suddenly remind her of somebody?

"Listen, everybody! Éomer is going to be here any minute now! Let's make sure he has one hell of a homecoming, yeah?" Éowyn spoke, earning a moderate cheer – he could be out in the hallway right now.

It was as if the man himself had been summoned by his sister's words. For it was not five minutes later than keys could be heard rattling in keyhole, and then the door opened. Lothíriel had the fortune – or misfortune – of standing by the kitchen counter and thus not five feet from the apartment's doorway. And so she saw the new arrival the moment he stepped in.

There was the tall, golden-haired man she had met only today. She almost reached to rub her eyes to make sure what she was seeing was really true – that Éowyn's brother was actually _him. _

And then memory hit and her abysmally slow brain finally began to catch up. Every conversation with Faramir and Éowyn, every mention of her absent brother... Lothíriel compared it with what _he _had told her today, and found no contraction. And so she had no choice but to arrive to the conclusion.

The man she had met today in the library, the one she had ogled at and learnt some pretty personal stuff about, was nobody else than Éowyn's long absent brother.

Naturally, it was that moment that his eyes met hers.

* * *

He met a girl that day.

Éomer guessed it was something Éowyn would have advised him to do very soon. _Find someone to fill that void, brother. _He could almost hear her voice in his head, lecturing him in the way he imagined their mother would, were she alive. He would have liked to contradict that nagging voice, but the truth was, the idea did not sound completely awful.

After all the ugliness, he desired a little bit of beauty.

Even so, he didn't think it was going to happen any time soon. He had barely just arrived in the city, he had not found his bearings yet, and it probably wasn't a good idea to start dating right away. He didn't even have a place of his own yet.

But of course it didn't work out like that. For the better part of his adult life, Éomer had felt like things didn't so much happen to him, they _fell _on him when he least expected it. And so went to the library like any unguessing fool, took his seat at a desk, and began to work on his project of searching for local job announcements. Béma knew there was no hope of doing that while he stayed at Éowyn's apartment. Not that he rued Éowyn for her happiness with Faramir, but he felt like an intruder in their little nest. It was easier to get things done when he was alone.

Or, at least he tried to work. It wasn't long that he felt the distinct sensation of being stared at. He supposed it had something to do with his soldier's training, this extra sense of being always alert. And so as he looked up, he saw a pair of clear grey eyes staring straight at him.

She was the loveliest thing he had seen in a long time. Her eyes shone with the kindness and purity that had been gone from his life for so long. Her long, dark hair was a messy cloud about her fair face and her lips were slightly parted as though in wonder. It was her eyes that struck him right there, filling him with... he didn't even know what it was. He was transfixed.

Her cheeks grew red and she looked down, pretending to focus on her work. But Éomer knew better. She had noticed him, too.

And that was why he grabbed his things the moment he saw her moving. Was it a weird move? Maybe she was just going home and he was acting like a stalker. But she left her books and notes on the table, and he guessed she was simply getting something, maybe another book to add to her already towering piles, or a drink from the café downstairs. He cheered mentally when he saw her heading to the counter and digging her bag for some money, as he assumed.

He followed her straight there, and got hot coffee spilled on his shirt. He didn't mind.

It was not long after they were seated in the park next to the library. And somehow, she got him talking about things that were tender and close to his heart, and until now he had thought he would never reveal it to anybody but his closest family. But there was something about this girl... there was a warmth and understanding in her eyes, even if she knew nothing of war, and he found himself powerless. And so he was telling her how pitifully his crusade to save the world had ended.

One would expect her to look at him with empty eyes, not quite understanding what it was he had seen there on the foreign fields. But hers were full, and even if she didn't personally comprehend it, neither did she make him feel naked and exposed or foolish for talking so sincerely. If anything, he felt like she _heard. _

This was a singular girl, indeed.

And that was why he meant to learn her name. He fully intended it until Éowyn's untimely phone call. With that single interruption it seemed their connection was severed and the girl was leaving.

He stood up and opened his mouth to ask who she was, and perhaps inquire for her phone number. But maybe something had been severed during his time in the Blue Berets, and so no sound came out. He did not receive the information he wanted.

She turned away, leaving him feeling like a complete idiot.

Later that evening, Éomer arrived at Éowyn's home. She had suggested they have a dinner together and then watch some film. It sounded like a perfectly good idea, as it would allow them to catch up after their separation. So he called her and asked what kind of food were they eating so that he could buy wine accordingly. But when he arrived at her apartment, it was not a quiet dinner and a film that waited him.

The room was filled with people, all yelling _"__Surprise!" _at the same time. Most he knew from previous acquaintance, thankfully. But almost at once, his eyes were fixed on _her. _There at the kitchen counter stood a grey-eyed, dark-haired girl he had wondered about only hours ago... and the way she stared at him, it was clear she was shocked to see him.

Éomer's heart fell. She had expected someone else.

But this was his night, or so he guessed Éowyn had meant it. He would make a best of it, or he'd be damned.

* * *

Lothíriel recovered from her first shock soon enough. She put together two and two and last, and felt how silly she had been not realising the connection until now. _Of course._ Of course the man from the library was Éowyn's brother, because that was just how things worked.

A part of her was relieved. She had left so stupidly, not even asking his name, nor his phone number. Now she had a chance to redeem it. And yet partly she felt stupid and ashamed, realising she should have made the connection the moment he started to speak about the Blue Berets. And her shame made her want to never show her face before him again. She was Faramir's cousin; he would think her a moron when he learnt that.

As such, the first hour after Éomer's arrival she did her best to avoid him. It wasn't inconceivably difficult when the apartment was so full of people. She found herself a nice corner with Arwen, who was more of an introvert like herself, even if she was probably the most radiant person in the entire block. Lothíriel thought to herself it would be too simple to call Arwen just _beautiful. _

All the same, she was quite friendly, and helpful in aiding her to keep away from Éowyn's brother. Yet of course, Lothíriel should have known it was a fool's errand to try and hide from a soldier and a cop.

"Hi there", his low, pleasant voice spoke from her side. She almost jumped. There was this stupid instinct to hide from him at once, but Lothíriel forced herself to turn and face the man. Discreetly, Arwen made her exit, leaving Lothíriel all alone with this unnervingly attractive man.

Elbereth, he was_fine._ His green t-shirt complimented the gold of his hair and the glowing tan of his strong arms. Had she ever seen anybody who looked so solid? But he also seemed a little bit wary and awkward, like he didn't know how to address her.

"Hi", she managed to answer and smiled; only seconds later she decided such a wide grin probably looked insane to him. So she toned it down and thought to try humour instead. "I've got to admit, you are the last person I thought to see walking through that door."

He let out a small laugh.

"Yeah. Pretty weird", he agreed and took a sip of beer somebody had given him.

"I do feel stupid, though. Éowyn must have spoken of you so many times, but I didn't connect the dots until I saw you walk in", she said, and then realised she still hadn't introduced herself. Cheeks hotter than ever, she offered him her hand, "I'm Lothíriel, Faramir's cousin."

He took her hand and gave it a good, firm squeeze. Father said you could tell a lot about people by their handshake; she didn't know if there was any truth to that, but at least this man gave an impression of steadfast character.

"Éomer, but that you already knew", he said and gave her a smile that was slightly more relaxed. "And don't worry about it. We all got own issues to worry about and if I know Éowyn at all, she probably gave me plenty of credit that don't hold up to the real deal."

"Well, that begs the question whether or not we deserve the love and praise of our loved ones – which I don't think needs answering", Lothíriel noted, growing a little braver in her words. It was probably the drinks she had already had. She added, "And I have yet to find a reason to disagree with anything she said."

That was bold. Maybe Éomer thought so too, because he raised an eyebrow and looked at her curiously.

She cleared her throat. He had not escaped yet, so there was still a chance to save this conversation, damn it.

"So, how is the job hunt going? Were you able to find anything?" she asked him and sipped her drink.

"I'm not sure. I made a call to this old friend of my late uncle's. He works with the police and he promised to ask around, but I have no idea if that will pan out or not", he replied. He shrugged, perhaps to seem nonchalant, but she had a feeling it meant more to him than he wanted to implicate.

"Have you always wanted to be a cop?" Lothíriel asked then. To be honest, she could easily see him in any job that had to do with helping and protecting people.

"Yeah. Both my uncle and my cousin were cops, and growing up, they were my idols. I guess it's in the blood. I gave up on it for a while, though, when my cousin was shot on the line of duty", Éomer said quietly. A shadow had fallen on his features and he looked down. Her heart ached for him when she realised just how much he had been through.

"I'm sorry to hear it", Lothíriel said and reached to touch his arm. But her fingers had barely settled on the warm skin when he lifted his eyes again. Their look was resolute.

"Sorry. I don't mean to be a constant downer in our conversations. I've just been thinking of this stuff a lot lately. Being back brings a lot of memories, you know. But I really want to move on", he said in earnest. She wondered which one he wanted to convince more, himself or her.

She wanted him to have a good time. This was his night, after all, and it sounded like he could really use a fun evening with friends – old and new. So she raised her glass and toasted it with his bottle of beer.

"To moving on, then", Lothíriel declared and smiled brightly.

"To moving on", he agreed and smiled as well.

* * *

It turned out a pretty nice night, after all. The company was easy and natural and it didn't make him feel like standing in spotlight, even if it was his welcoming party.

Éomer could not lie to himself: it was partly because of Lothíriel. There was something about this girl that drew him in. She was pretty, yes, but that had never been his angle; he fancied himself more gentlemanly than that. It had to be in the way her eyes glittered, or her invariable good spirits even when she was embarrassed, or just this... this ease of being with her. After he had left the Blue Berets, Éomer had constantly felt torn between wanting company and despising it when it was found. That was the reason he had not made any real friends during his wandering, or even thought of keeping in touch with the occasional party he had joined. Éowyn had been the only exception until now.

So he found himself lingering around her, and they were talking about music and books and films they had seen. It felt good to have such a normal conversation and notice that she wasn't shy of him anymore, she didn't even seem to recall the glimpses of dark he had unwittingly revealed. He had to admit it: he liked this girl. And somehow he got the sense that she liked him, too. Some male instinct was telling him to go for it. But he suppressed that thought quickly. It was way too soon for them both, and he knew just how faulty he was. She shouldn't have to deal with his issues.

He would gladly have spent the night there, but at some point, Amrothos got it in his head they ought to go to a local night club. His brothers supported this idea and soon enough they were talking everybody else into it. As the majority of the party seemed pretty excited with this plan, Éomer decided not to be the buzz kill, although he doubted a noisy club would allow his pleasant talk with Lothíriel to continue.

There was a general bustle as coats were sought and put on and purses were checked. Then the company began to spill out to the street. Lively little conversations were happening all around him. Éomer followed a few steps behind Lothíriel, who walked arms linked with Faramir. She was laughing at something her cousin had said, tilting back her head a little bit and leaning against his shoulder. She had left her hair open and it spilled down her back like dark, glossy waves. Realising he was staring, Éomer quickly lowered his eyes.

The night club was only a few blocks walk away. It did not seem to be a busy night, as the whole party got inside without any trouble. Or maybe Amrothos was bribing the bouncer. Who knew? Sometimes, Éomer thought he was prepared to believe just about anything when it came to the antics of that young man.

After leaving their coats in the cloakroom, he reached carefully for Lothíriel's elbow. She had been digging something from her purse, but looked up when she felt his hand.

"I'm going to get a drink. Do you want something?" he asked her and was already doubting if this was too straightforward. But she smiled and he thought of how stunning it made her look.

"Thanks! I'd like some white wine", she said and closed her purse. Before he could make his way to the counter, she touched his hand. "I'll get the next round, then."

He bought the drinks – wine for her, beer for himself – Éomer searched the club with his eyes, until he saw her waving at him from one sizeable, round table. Most of the company was already there and he moved to join them. Lothíriel quickly, almost nonchalantly made space for him next to herself. Her smile was bright when he set the glass of wine before her.

The whole affair was much as he had imagined: the music was too loud for conversation, and he couldn't say he very much enjoyed the flashing, pulsing lights or the music. Lothíriel was trying to tell him something about a local art gallery, but the only thing he gathered from it was that she liked art. It wasn't a worthless piece of information, but he would have wanted to learn more. Maybe even ask if she'd like to go there with him.

But after visiting the men's room and getting back to the table again, he saw Amrothos had taken his seat next to her. Éomer said nothing and instead found a new spot at the table, though it was sadly far away from her. But now he found himself next to Éowyn, and that was not a bad thing at all.

It was over an hour later that he ran into Lothíriel again. He and Elphir had been doing shots at the counter, and he was meaning to return to the table, when he saw her on the dance floor. Éomer halted and stared. She had discarded her blouse, revealing a form-fitting tank top that might be blue if not for the irritating lights, and she was was dancing all alone. Not that he was any judge, but she was pretty good... and all that dark hair really did look amazing.

He wasn't sure what made him move. But so he did, and less than a minute later, he was standing before her. It didn't look like she thought this odd. With a wide grin, she threw her arms about his neck and continued dancing.

And what could he do? She was obviously rather drunk, and a gentleman doesn't leave a lady to peril in that situation, and – and she wanted to dance with him. Although he didn't think much of his own talent in that regard, it didn't seem like she minded.

_Oh, Béma._ As he found himself moving in time with her, Éomer knew he was in very big trouble.

_To be continued. _

* * *

**A/N: **Just as a clarification, I do believe Blue Berets (and the United Nations) are one of the great peace projects in the history of mankind and on principle I support what they do, but it is well recorded there have been abuses and malpractice in their operations. I decided not to delve into it further than to state it as the reason of Éomer's disillusionment, mostly because I don't think it would be tasteful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2  
**

There was something heavy pinning her down.

That was Lothíriel's primary notion when she came around. The first few minutes her mind was just blank, until she regained the mental capacities needed to realise the heavy object was an arm draped about her midsection. Then, having marvelled at this fact, she began to wonder if this was it – if she had actually hooked up with some guy and brought him home.

Home? Yeah, that appeared to be the case, because she'd know her lumpy pillow anywhere, and the smell of her flat was about as familiar.

She panicked. What had happened? How had she got home? Who was in the bed with her? Had she gone through with something incredibly stupid?

Lothíriel turned. As she did, she became aware of three facts. One, she was in her pajamas. Two, it was Éomer sleeping right behind her, so close that she could feel his breath on her face. Three, he was on the top of the blanket and wearing his t-shirt and jeans.

Putting these things together, she relaxed again and let out a deep breath. Nothing serious had happened, then. First, he was clothed. Second, he didn't strike her as a guy who would take advantage of a drunk girl. He was a protector, that much was clear by his career choices. The best she could figure, he had escorted her home and decided to spend the night here. Now that she was thinking of it, she was pretty sure she had demanded him to stay.

He looked nice. His long hair was a mess, but there was something soft and kind about his features when he slept. Idly she thought that while his time in the peacekeeping forces had given him grief, it had not broken him, or changed who he was deep inside. Maybe it was bold to make such a far-reaching assumption about him when she had only just met the man, but she didn't feel like she was fundamentally wrong.

Éomer sighed and she could see his eyelashes fluttering at the brink of waking. Not knowing what else to do, Lothíriel shut her own eyes and pretended to be asleep. She didn't know how he would react to being watched while he slept.

It was almost unbearably quiet for a while, but instinct told her now he was looking at her. She could only wonder what he saw when he watched her – if he thought her some silly, irresponsible girl who couldn't possibly understand his ordeals and got so drunk he had to walk her home. Or maybe... maybe he saw a chance to start over.

_Don't you dare think of it, you wistful donkey, _she scolded herself, and knew she might as well stop feigning sleep.

So she opened her eyes to meet his gaze. His look was remarkably soft, but he blinked when she studied him. At once, she thought he became more reserved.

"Morning", Lothíriel said carefully, noting he had yet to move his arm from her. Should she say something about it? Or just wait for him to move the limb? Oh, Elbereth. Why wasn't there some kind of a manual for a situation like this? She felt hopelessly awkward, which was no good while having an attractive male in your bed, essentially cuddling you.

"Morning", he replied and a tentative smile appeared on his face.

"Uh", she began, feeling particularly unintelligent, "So this happened."

Amusement glittered in his eyes, which made her want to sink through the mattress and the floor and never emerge again.

"Yeah. I'm glad you didn't freak out to find me here. I was worried you'd think me some kind of a creep who gets way too familiar without permission", he said, little bit apologetically if she read him right. It helped her to relax as she realised this was weird for him too.

"No, no. You're fine. And you got me home last night, so that's great", she hurried to say and felt her cheeks grow hot. She gave him a smile that was probably a little too pert, "Coffee?"

His answering smile was much more genuine.

"Yes please", Éomer said, finally lifting his arm from her; she instantly regretted the loss of that warm weight. He yawned and raked a hand through his hair. And he was just being _too much _in her bed, and if she looked at him for one moment more, she was going to do something stupid and inappropriate, like kiss him. And that – well, that would ruin everything.

So she got up, caught her frayed dressing gown from where it was hanging on the door of her wardrobe, and quickly tied it about herself. Parading before him in her old pajamas did not seem like the thing to do. Lothíriel made a quick trip to her bathroom and washed her face. At least she had had the good sense to wash off her make up last night, but her face still looked red and the bags under her eyes reminded her of a sleep-deprived raccoon. Oh, Elbereth. This was just her luck. At least she didn't have too bad a hangover. Thank the Powers for small graces.

She found him inspecting her small bookshelf in the living room, but he straightened himself and turned to face her when she arrived. And of course he had to smile, damn it.

"Would you like to take a shower? I can get you a towel", she offered him. Not that she wouldn't have liked to take a long and hot one right now, but he was her guest, so he had the right of way, and she wasn't going to let him leave thinking her a complete disaster of a girl.

"Nah, no thanks. I don't have a change of clothes with me, so it would just be gross to put these back on", he said and waved his hand to dismiss the whole idea.

Well, it might be for the better. Having that much wet, naked man in her bathroom seemed like a very dangerous thing. Moreover, it was a difficult image to get out of her head.

"Alright. I'll make us some coffee, then", Lothíriel said and busied herself with that task.

While she fixed them some breakfast – yesterday's bread toasted with cheese, some fruit, her last two eggs and coffee – she saw him flipping through one of her books.

"Do you read a lot?" she asked him curiously.

"I used to. Books kept me company when I was alone. And before that, time between my shifts was often long and uneventful. Towards the end, it felt like the only way I could escape", he replied as he returned the book to its place. With half a smile, he added, "Maybe I'll pick it up again once I have a place of my own."

"You're welcome to borrow any of mine, if you want", she offered and poured mugs of coffee for them. One was from a museum of marine biology she had visited a couple of years ago, and the other was deep blue with stars painted on it. He accepted it with thanks and another infuriatingly attractive half smile.

When the eggs were ready, they took seat at her tiny kitchen table, which only had two creaky chairs and was so small that their knees were touching under its board. She tried to ignore it and seemingly he did too. Still, it was not easy, what with the thin fabric of her pajama bottoms and the heat glowing through his jeans...

"So... thanks for getting me home last night. I appreciate it", she said at length. She felt shy all of a sudden, and a bit embarrassed. But she did owe him a thank you. And he had been such a gentleman, which was not always the case when you left the club with a guy – something she knew well from her classmates' stories.

He looked up from the orange he had been peeling, and she thought his dark eyes were soft and friendly.

"No problem", he said simply. Then, after a moment's silence, he added, "I had a good time last night. It was great talking to you. I haven't really spoken of that stuff with anybody... it feels good to get it out of my chest."

She was surprised to hear this. Now that she was thinking of it, why would he share something so personal with some girl he had just met? He didn't seem like the type to go about announcing his deepest thoughts to anybody who might listen. But on the other hand, maybe that was the whole point. Maybe it was easier to admit his grief and disappointment before a fresh new face.

"I'm glad to hear it", she said at last, hiding her surprise as she could. "I don't think it does any good to carry something like that with you. Father says it can poison you inside."

"Yeah. I've seen it happen and I don't want to end up like that", Éomer said in a low voice and shook his head a little bit.

_I'm not sure you could, though,_ she pondered to herself, but did not say it out loud. They didn't know each other well enough for her to make such comments.

"Anyway", he continued, "I guess I should also thank you for a place to stay for the night. They never say anything, but I often feel like I'm just in my sister and Faramir's way at her apartment."

"Don't mention it", she dismissed it quickly. Then, with a tentative smile, "I had a good time, too. Although I must insist I don't normally get that drunk."

He smiled warmly.

"I've seen worse. You were pretty sweet, actually", Éomer said, once more putting her off balance.

_He thought she was sweet. Oh, Elbereth._

Not knowing what to say, she looked down and felt her cheeks grow hot. She had always thought of herself as level-headed and down to the ground, hardly the kind to be swept off her feet by some good-looking guy. But here she was crushing hard on this war-hardened traveller!

He seemed to sense her embarrassment, and so began to ask more about her studies. Being offered this safe topic, Lothíriel relaxed once more and was soon telling him eagerly about the sea and the fascinating creatures in it. He endured her excitement graciously and his eyes didn't even turn glassy, the way people's eyes sometimes did when she really got going.

But all too soon, they had finished their breakfast and their cups of coffee. There wasn't even the excuse of getting a refill in their mugs, and so at last, Éomer stood up and thanked her for the meal. She felt a pang of disappointment but tried to ignore it. He had places to be, probably. And she still needed to finish that damned essay.

There was this awkward silence as they both stood there. His dark eyes met hers and in the bottom of her stomach, butterflies stirred again. Damn it, if she didn't get to see him after today, she was going to be very cross.

"I was -" she started.

"Do you think -" he said at the same time. She let out an embarrassed little laugh and he looked taken aback, too.

"Sorry. I guess it's been too long since I've last done this", Éomer said after clearing his throat. "I was just wondering if you'd like to go out some time. Maybe get a coffee."

A strangest rush went through her. She could only call it some kind of female pride. He wanted to see her again, too. Obviously, she had done something right.

"I would love that", she said and was immediately worrying whether she sounded too excited, and if he'd prefer a more cautious approach from her, and also if he was going to think of her as little bit weird. It wouldn't do, if he decided she was one of those girls who got all too enthusiastic way too soon. But she really liked him and it would be a huge disappointment if she somehow bungled this up when things were starting look so promising.

"Great", he said, and for a moment they both stood like a pair of satisfied idiots. Then she realised something vital.

"Um, do you happen to have your phone nearby? You'll need my number", she said tentatively, at which he seemed to shake himself.

"Right", he said as he went fishing through his jacket's pockets. As he was doing it, he cast her a sheepish smile. "Like I said, it's been a while."

"Well, it's not like I can say I'm highly sought after by the males of the area, so you're none the worse than I am", Lothíriel replied, equally sheepish.

Éomer raised one eyebrow.

"Really? The males of the area must either be idiots or blind, then", he said in a low voice.

Her smile almost turned pained. It would probably be a weird move to say that when you hang around with girls like Arwen or Éowyn, most males did indeed become blind and idiot, at least as far as she was concerned.

"Here's my phone", he said then, thankfully disrupting her line of thought. He offered it to her so that she could add her number. Her hands shook a bit, but she was able to type it correctly. Then she pressed the little green receiver and seconds later, her own phone rang in her purse.

"There you are, safe and sound", she said as she handed the phone back to him. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she worried if it sounded stupid. Oh, dear. This man really had got into her head, hadn't he?

"Great", he said as he pocketed the device again. He glanced about himself and his eyes landed on his jacket, hanging on her coat rack. "I guess I should get going."

"Yeah", she agreed, but though no matter how awkward she felt at the moment, she'd rather he stayed. But they hadn't even been to a proper date yet and she didn't want him to think she was some kind of a freak who latched herself to the first man who paid attention to her.

"Thanks again for breakfast. Maybe we can do that again some time", he offered as he shrugged on his jacket.

"I'd like that", she said and smiled. "But maybe let's start with the coffee."

He let out a low, throaty laugh.

"Deal", Éomer said and there was another tense moment, and neither of them seemed to know what to do with their hands. She was fidgeting her own, while his twitched in her way, like he had meant to touch her.

"I'll see you around", he said, releasing them both from this tense instance, and so they uttered their goodbyes before he opened her front door and stepped out.

When the lock clicked after him, Lothíriel punched the air like a manic sportswoman at the finish line. Then she did a ridiculous little dance across her living room.

_Ten points to me for a successful interaction with a man! _

* * *

Éowyn's apartment was in fact at a walking distance from where Lothíriel lived, but Éomer didn't head straight to his sister's place. He knew she would interrogate him the moment he made an appearance and he wanted to get his thoughts in order before submitting to her cross-examination.

And boy, was there a lot to think about. He had just woken up next to a lovely young woman and it had felt _great._

He liked this girl. That it in itself was a surprise: he had thought himself too jaded and weary from the past few years to be able to take that kind of interest in anybody so soon. And yet... the moment their eyes had met, something had started to thaw in his chest. She was sweet and kind and thoughtful and when he had revealed his disenchantment to her, he had felt like the weight on his heart had grown lighter for the first time. Last night he had genuinely enjoyed himself, leaving the past and looking ahead for once. How many songs they had danced to? Éomer did not recall so much the music as he did _her, _the feel of her hands on his neck, the warmth of her body he could feel through her top... at first, he had felt as awkward as any lad at his first party, but then the heat of the moment had started to take over and a wondrous lightness had overcome him. He felt like he could have spent the whole night just dancing, no matter how clumsy and awkward he was next to her ease and energy.

When Lothíriel had started to say she wanted to get home, he had quickly noticed her brothers were nowhere to be seen, and so he had decided to walk her home. He couldn't help but smile at the memory of how she had grasped his arm tightly as they walked, giggling and whispering amusing anecdotes about this or that into his ear. At her apartment, she had fiercely demanded him to stay the night, even though he had tried to say it wasn't such a long walk. Eventually he had agreed, because he had been a little drunk, too, and no doubt Éowyn and Faramir would appreciate some time alone.

And then morning had come, and he had found his arm draped around her. This had not seemed like an alarming thing to her, and he too had liked how it felt. In fact, he had wanted to kiss her more than once. First, when they were in the bed and he saw her eyes open and she looked at him with those grey, gentle eyes of hers. Second, when she gave him a mug of coffee and smiled at him. And third, when he took his leave of her. Even now he had half a mind of turning back to get that kiss.

But Éomer suppressed that urge. This was moving too fast. He had met Lothíriel only yesterday, and yet in the span of less than twenty four hours, he had already found himself in her bed! It wasn't a good idea to get serious with her so quickly. He had only just returned from overseas and his baggage weighed on him still. He had no job or a place of his own. Éomer knew he might not be in a shape to commit or make himself available emotionally. And the last thing he wanted was to fall out with her before they even had a chance to see where this might go. He couldn't let this become a sordid, guilty affair to forget about his troubles. Lothíriel deserved more than that.

Even so, it was promising. He had connected with her in a way that only happened once or twice before. She knew his issues but had agreed to see him again nonetheless. Most girls he had dated before his detail with the Blue Berets wouldn't touch him with a three feet pole after hearing even half of what had happened. But Lothíriel had looked at him and seemed to think there was hope for that man – that he could put it all behind himself and build anew. The thought of his phone in his pocket almost burned him with the knowledge he could call and talk to her right now, if he wanted. But it wouldn't do, unless he wanted her to think he was some kind of a creep. He ought to wait a couple of days, cool off his heels a little bit, and then ask her out.

He had walked for a while, hardly seeing where he was going. But now he let out a deep sigh and lifted up his head. Éomer decided he'd better turn around and make for Éowyn's place before she started to wonder. He was fairly sure he now had a sufficient explanation to give his sister – and prepared for her excitement at this apparent sign of him moving on with his life. He knew how she worried for him.

But truth was, he liked the idea, too. He had spent enough time with past and regret. Now, thinking of a possible new job and a sweet young woman, he decided it was time to put himself and his life in order.

Yeah, he would call her soon.

* * *

Over the course of following days, Lothíriel kept anxiously checking her phone. Rationally she knew he wasn't going to call or text her right away. Some distance was good after their rather intense first two encounters. Not to mention, he had his quest for a job: whether it was going well or not, he would be busy. Even so, all the rationale in the world couldn't stop her from waiting and compulsively making sure she hadn't missed a message from him. It made her feel a little pathetic, but on the other hand, she didn't often get such attention from a guy like him.

Elbereth, she liked him. Though it was clear the man had gone through some hard times, there was still an underlying warmth and decency about him, something so strong and resilient that no battlefield could corrupt it. And he made her feel safe. He'd never go further than she allowed. Waking up next to him had felt like the most natural thing in the world and even now, she wanted to feel it again.

So she waited, and hoped, and felt increasingly nervous. She even went as far as imagining him running into some other woman, more beautiful and enticing than her, and forgetting all about Lothíriel in the process. She thought of calling Éowyn and spilling out everything, but then decided it would be too weird, considering she was his sister.

Thankfully, Arwen agreed to listen to her venting, and did it with the usual grace and patience. She didn't offer needless advice, and agreed gently when Lothíriel mused the same things aloud she had already considered herself: that it was too soon, he had other business to take care of, and she was being impatient.

"I'm really being a pathetic fool, aren't I?" Lothíriel finally groaned, slumping back in her chair. She and Arwen were seated in her living room and as usual, her friend looked wildly out of place with what mostly consisted of second-hand furniture, many worn books on marine biology, and mismatched pots containing various plants given to Lothíriel by her aunt.

Arwen was stirring some honey in her herbal tea. She had the guest's spot on the blue love seat, which she somehow managed to make look like a throne.

"You're being as any young person would be in your position. Don't think I never made myself a fool over Aragorn. Or vice versa", she said sagely, though her eyes glinted warmly.

"That's hard to picture. You and him are like the two most distinguished people I've ever met", said the younger of two women with a disbelieving shake of her head.

Her friend let out a soft, bell-like laughter.

"Oh, don't think we never stumbled around one another. We were just good at hiding it", she said lightly. But then her expression sobered a little bit and she cast a serious look at Lothíriel.

"All the same", she said, "he does know Éomer somewhat. Only the other day, he was telling me it's huge that the man is showing interest in you. You know his recent history, don't you?"

"I know some of it", Lothíriel replied. A shudder rand down her spine as she recalled the shadow of bad memories in his eyes.

"Then you should be hopeful. But also remember than the best gift you can possibly offer is patience, no matter what happens next", Arwen said and lifted her cup daintily to her lips.

"I just don't want to screw this up, you know? I really like him very much", Lothíriel said and sat up again. Her own tea sat forgotten on the floor – she had no room for a coffee table.

"And I do not think you will. I saw how he looked at you at the party, my friend, and there was never a man more smitten. I think you shall be hearing from him soon enough", said Arwen with a bright smile on her face. She was sensitive and insightful in a measure most people weren't, and so Lothíriel felt slightly less nervous after their talk.

Still, she did let out a groan.

"_Men_", she muttered and rubbed her face. Arwen laughed again.

"Yes. They're quite something else, aren't they?" she remarked lightly.

"That they are!" Lothíriel agreed fiercely.

She had never thought she'd be a fool for love. But apparently, Éomer had decided to prove her wrong.

* * *

The message finally arrived a week later.

Lothíriel was elbow-deep in dishes when she heard the alarm sound in the living room, but she did not run straight for it – at this point, she wasn't watching the device as obsessively as in the beginning, and she did not jump and go running at every noise her phone made.

So she dried the last of her dishes, arranged them in the cupboard as she hummed a song from a new album by her favourite singer, and then sauntered to check the message.

_Hey, it's Éomer. Want to grab that coffee some time?_

She squealed. Then she performed yet another victory dance across her living room, before she was able to sit down and type her answer.

_Sure! I'm going to be working tomorrow, but what about Tuesday afternoon?_

For a few seconds she thought about adding a smiling emoji to the message, but he seemed more of a serious type, and maybe she shouldn't try her luck so soon. She pressed "send" and let out a breath she had been holding.

A few minutes went by. And then in the message thread appeared his response.

_Sounds great. Do you know any good places? Every one I know seems to have closed._

Lothíriel was already typing the address of her favourite café. It was not one of those big chain store types, where every café and restaurant looked and tasted the same; this was a family business that had served the best coffee in the city for two generations. It didn't hurt that the owner and her father were old friends.

_2 pm? _she added once she had sent the address.

Now his answer took only twenty seconds.

_It's a date._

At that, she simply couldn't help but squeal again.

* * *

_It's a date._

For a long moment, Éomer stared at the last message he had sent Lothíriel. He considered whether he had been too bold to choose that particular expression, but when she replied with a bunch of smiling emojis, he decided it was okay. She didn't seem to mind.

"What are you smiling about?"

He looked up to see the face of his friend, Éothain. Companions since childhood, they had remained so even during Éomer's detail with the Blue Berets. The jovial man had been one of the few to welcome him back. Even their respective callings were not that dissimilar, for Éothain worked as a paramedic. He had his life more figured out, though – he had a steady job and he was going to marry his long-time girlfriend in a few months.

At the moment they were at the garage they were renting together with a couple other guys; all of them needed a place to maintain and work on their motorcycles. His own was inherited from his father and it had been his trusty companion on his travels. And it still was.

"It's nothing", Éomer said nonchalantly and pocketed the phone. He was tempted to continue texting her, but he reminded himself that he was trying to move slowly.

He grabbed his oily rag again and continued with the task of polishing his motorcycle. Éowyn sometimes said he paid more attention to the appearance of "that hell-machine" than his own self.

Outside the open gate of the garage, Amrothos and Erchirion were talking quickly between themselves, their voices hushed. They were waiting for Éomer and Éothain to finish and join them for a game of pool at a bar few blocks downtown. Amrothos had been talking about buying a motorcycle of his own, but Éomer had a feeling it was yet another of his flimsy ideas that would be forgotten by next week. He had known him before joining the Blue Berets and, rather surprisingly, they had stayed in touch even during his time overseas. He supposed that was the thing you didn't expect about Amrothos. In so many things he would appear the most scatterbrained person on the face of Arda, but in others, he was more constant than most people.

"What's their deal?" he asked Éothain as he continued to polish the exhaust pipe with the rag. Amrothos and his brother continued their conversation, though it looked more like some kind of a squabble now.

His friend grinned.

"They're betting on how soon you'll be asking Lothíriel out", Éothain replied lightly. He had been there at the welcome party and seen the interest Éomer had taken in her, which had already earned a few jokes at his expense. Still, he had admitted he liked her and hoped to see her again.

All the same, he had to snort at his friends' antics.

"Fools. I already did", Éomer said and tried not to smile. He had to bite his lip to keep it from showing.

Éothain let out a low, throaty laugh.

"I knew it. Now Faramir owes me a drink", he stated in self-satisfaction.

"How many people exactly are making bets on my love-life?" Éomer asked and cast his friend a look from underneath his eyebrows. The oaf grinned.

"I have lost the count", he quipped cheerfully.

Éomer grunted in response and leant back a little bit to survey his handiwork. The motorcycle was polished and gleaming again, just the way his father had kept it. And seeing it was one of the very few things he had left of the man, he was determined to hold on to the same standard.

"Oi, you two! How much longer are you going to be fondling those bikes of yours?" Amrothos exclaimed.

"I'm done. Let me just change, and then we can go", Éomer said and got up on his feet. He tossed the dirty rag in a bucket. After cleaning his hands, he reached for his gym bag, which he had emptied and stuffed with fresh clothes. At the back of the garage, there was a small corner veiled with an old shower curtain, meant for just such purposes. He rolled his dirty clothes into one neat bundle, oily parts inside, and changed into clean jeans and a t-shirt. His time with the Blue Berets had taught him a few things about efficiency and smart packing.

Amrothos and Erchirion waited while Éomer and Éothain locked up the garage. When they were ready, the younger of two brothers grinned.

"Are we finally ready? All parts properly polished?" he asked in his usual cheeky manner as they began to make their way down the street.

"I'll polish the pool table with your face", Éothain shot back. "And if you still have money left after that, you owe me a drink, because apparently Operation Date the Cute Little Sister is go."

Both the brothers seemed surprised. Then they directed their eyes at Éomer. Amrothos looked at him like he had just grown a second head, but Erchirion was sizing him up as though he was already planning his kidnap and disposing of his body.

"Relax, you ass. It's just a coffee", Éomer said nonchalantly and gazed ahead with the air of absolute calm. The brothers needn't know how very seriously he hoped that coffee would pan out to something more serious.

"Do you have a death wish, Éomer? Because if you don't, and if you mean to hurt our sister, you better start running right now", Amrothos said at length, though his voice trembled a little bit. He guessed it was because his friend had hard time coming to terms with the fact that his little sister had grown into a young woman who was found attractive by men.

"You wouldn't catch me if you tried", Éomer said, but he added in a more serious note, "But don't you worry about your sister. I have nothing but admiration and respect for her, and would never hurt her."

"And don't you ever forget it. Because you may rest assured I won't forget where you live", Erchirion said, a little less in inner turmoil than his brother.

"Duly noted", Éomer said with a slight nod of his head. He didn't wonder at their threats. They loved their little sister and it was simply a sign of solid brotherly instinct to have a degree of suspicion against any guy in his position taking interest in her. All the more reason to get his life together and show that he was a safe option for her.

He cast a tentative smile at all three men with him.

"Now, seeing people are making profits on my account, isn't it only fair I get to share the spoils?" he inquired mildly.

"I'm not splitting drinks with you, not after seeing how you downed those shots at the club", Éothain announced firmly.

"Absolutely not. Go and make your own bets", Amrothos said, sounding more in control of himself.

"I'm not the one making bets on my sister's love-life."

"Watch it, Éomundsson! You're walking on thin ice."

"I'll tell her you said that."

_To be continued. _

* * *

**A/N: **Here is the second chapter of this story! I hope you liked it. :)

It's been a fun thing to write, being so different from the stuff I normally do. And delving into their personalities in this setting is definitely very interesting.

Let me know what you think!

* * *

**EStrunk - **Glad you liked it! That particular line - I thought it was obvious there was something underneath, but seems like I should have been more clear the first time round! I did go and fix that bit, though.

**Katia0203 - **Oh, there's definitely some love in the air already! ;) I'm glad you liked the first chapter!

**rossui - **Thank you!

**Rho67 - **Heh, I'm not sure if I should feel guilty or not for keeping you from your work! But I'm flattered to hear a new story from me got such a reaction from you! I do hope you keep enjoying this story.

Éomer is a great character to explore, but I'm often worried whether or not I'm doing him justice! I do hope he sounds like "himself", even if he's in this very different setting.

**Catspector - **Thanks! :)

**frank . kilgenschmidt - **It's definitely different from what I normally do.

There seems to be a little bit of repercussion, but nothing too bad. ;)

**xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - **Thank you!

**AmandaBaker852 -** I hope you continue to like it!

**vilaspa - **Thank you!

**sai19 - **I do regret not being able to finish that story, but here's to hoping I'll do so one day. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this one!

**blasttyrant - **That's one of the compliments that I take to the heart: "I don't normally like this, but for you I will do it." So big thanks for giving this story a chance! 3 I'm so glad you liked the first chapter!

**cCeret - **Indeed I am! And it was quite entertaining to write. :) Hope you like the story!

**Anon - **Thanks! I'm rather fond of her, too. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Lothíriel took in one more deep breath. She had been inhaling a lot of those in the past hour, and if this continued, she was going to start to hyperventilate. And that was no good, because you couldn't drink coffee while you hyperventilated, or talk, or basically just do anything that wouldn't make Éomer think she was utterly mad.

She was almost at the café now. Only one more block to go, and then, soon enough, she would see him. Would he be waiting for her already? Was he punctual? It worried her how little she still knew of him. And yet she could hardly stop thinking about the man. Only last night, she had almost delivered dishes to wrong tables while fighting this stubborn day-dream of waking up next to him again.

His golden head was easily spotted near the door of the café. Where anybody else might be leaning against a wall or a street lamp, he stood tall and straight – still a soldier at his core. Lothíriel checked the clock on her phone. It read 1:55 pm. How long had he been waiting for her? She felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Maybe he was nervous, too.

She was not able to approach unnoticed. When she was still fifty feet away, he turned to look at her direction. A tentative smile spread on his features, which made her feel like her heart had just missed a beat. It felt so good to see him, she almost dashed straight at the man. But Lothíriel tempered herself. She didn't want to freak him out.

"Hi", she greeted him, feeling shy all of a sudden when they stood face to face again.

"Hi", he replied and still kept smiling. _Oh, damn._

"Shall we get inside?" she offered and instantly wanted to kick herself. All day, she had looked forward to this, and now she sounded like an awkward fool who has never spoken to a man before.

"Yeah, let's. What's good here?" he asked as he stepped after her inside. It helped her relax, giving him recommendations and talking about her own favourites. Slowly but surely, she began to feel less tense.

Once they had drinks before them, she felt brave enough to start a proper conversation. They were seated in her favourite table in a corner by the window. There wasn't much space, and the table just barely had enough room for them both, but it felt nice and intimate.

"So, how goes the job hunt? Any luck yet?" Lothíriel asked him.

"Yeah, actually. I'm having an interview at the police department tomorrow. And there's a security job that's basically mine if I want it, but I'd rather be a cop", he replied. A hint of anxiety visited his voice, and she guessed he was worried of screwing up the interview and losing the opportunity.

"They're idiots if they don't take you. Not many cops have a background like you do", she said, hoping it would encourage him.

"I guess", he said and smiled faintly. "We'll see about it. I'd like to start as a detective right away, but everybody needs to begin at the bottom. So even if I get the job, it'll be routine patrolling at first."

"Is it scary for you to think what could happen while you're on duty?" Lothíriel asked carefully, remembering what had happened to his cousin.

Éomer shook his head lightly.

"No, not really. It can't be worse than some stuff I've seen, and this city doesn't stand out with its high crime rate. Nowadays, we're trained to deal with it and the department has plenty of ways for helping the force when something bad does happen. It's very different than back in my uncle's day. You took your trauma and buried it deep inside", he explained evenly.

"That sounds unpleasant. But even if things have improved, I still wonder how anyone can do such a job. It must take so much courage. I don't think I could stand a single day doing it", she said and felt a shudder run down her spine.

"It's not the easiest job, for sure. You might think it's a cliché to say this is a calling, but it's true. Few people become cops if they don't feel like they're supposed to do it", he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He then gave her a smile, "On the other hand, isn't it a calling of sorts to want to study the sea, too?"

Her answering smile was little bit sheepish.

"Well, you're not wrong. You generally don't plan a career in academia if you want to be rich and famous. Not that some scientists aren't famous. It just takes so much talent, hard work and a good deal of luck to become that way. And marine biology isn't exactly the hotbed of world fame", she said and took a careful sip of her drink. She had expected it to be hot, but many minutes had already passed in their conversation, and the liquid had cooled off more than she had thought.

"Do you want to be famous?" Éomer asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"No. Maybe. I don't know", she said and let out a small laugh. "I just love it when I'm out there on a boat, and it's just me and the sea... or when I get back to lab to analyse everything. When you got your data before you, it has to be looked at with logic and reason and there's beauty in that. I guess it's a nerdy thing to say, but I love science because it rises above all the petty nonsense. It can't be fooled and it's always fair. And yet it still fills you with so much wonder."

As she spoke, her voice became more and more excited. He was smiling, not in contempt, but in a gentle way that reassured her somehow – that he didn't mind her enthusiastic pattering.

He then asked about the paper, the one she had been struggling with the day they had first met, and she was proud to announce her victory over the assignment. After that, their conversation went on in lively course. Eventually Éomer went to get them refills. Lothíriel felt like she could have spent the entire afternoon and evening just talking to him.

Sadly, even the nicest date has to end.

"I don't really want to go yet", he confessed when a waitress had collected their cups, "but I promised Éowyn I would fix the washing machine, and I still need to collect a few parts before the store closes."

He liked to do things with his hands, she had noticed; he talked so lovingly about his motorcycle and how his father had taught him to care for it. Along the way, he had picked up a few other related skills.

"You need to get going, then! Dirty clothes are the worst", she said, though she was not glad to see him go.

Once outside the café, he seemed to hesitate for a bit. She too felt like there were still a hundred things she wanted to say to him, but suddenly her tongue felt stiff in her mouth. And she shouldn't hold him back any longer.

"It was great to see you. Do you think we might do this again some time soon?" Éomer asked at last, much to her relief.

"I would like it very much", she said and smiled up at him.

He considered her with a look on his face she couldn't read. A keen light shined in his dark eyes. Then suddenly, he stepped closer to her, reached his hand behind the back of her head, and brought his lips to hers.

It was a small, tentative kiss, like he was holding himself back. While his beard was rough and prickly, his mouth was incredibly soft and warm, and she felt like sheer lightnings of shock and delight sprang from this contact. She had certainly fantasised about kissing him, but that he'd do it like this, in this time and place... helpless to resist, she tried to deepen it. For a moment, he even went along with her idea.

Both were breathing heavily when they parted. Lothíriel was trembling and staring at him with wide eyes. He gazed straight back in a way she feared would burn her to cinder.

But then Éomer seemed to shake himself. He briefly closed his eyes and rubbed his face before he directed a look at her once more, slightly calmer now.

"Are we moving too fast?" he asked her in a low, throaty voice.

She licked her lips – which still tasted like him. It was hard to form a coherent answer when all she wanted was to wind her arms around his neck and kiss him again.

"I don't know", Lothíriel said slowly. "We've only just met, but I like you so much and this – whatever this is – feels good. And this past week, I could hardly stop thinking about you. I don't know what's right."

Éomer studied her intently. He looked strange and a little bit wild, but she felt absolutely safe with him.

"I like you too, very much. And I want to keep seeing you. It feels like things only started to make sense again when we met. But you know what my life has been recently, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to be the kind of man that you deserve. I know it's not fair to ask you to wait for me, so... I guess it's up to you what happens next", he said quietly and clasped her hand in his own. She thought he looked somehow fearful, and wondered if he expected a sudden rejection.

She could understand he had some issues to work through. But she also knew what she felt around him, how safe it was when he was close. He was so unlike everybody else in her life and each time they met, she wanted to see more of him. And she knew she would regret it bitterly if she didn't take this chance.

So she interlaced her fingers with his and gave him a beaming smile. Now was not the time to be afraid.

"In that case, I would like to see where this goes. But we'll take things slow. What do you think?" she asked him. His expression softened and the set of his shoulders grew less tense. She even thought there was some relief in his eyes.

"Deal", he simply said and bent his head to her once again.

And just by the way it felt, she knew she had chosen the right thing.

"Are we dating now?" she asked him breathlessly.

"... yeah."

* * *

_How did the interview go?_

It was a slow night at the restaurant. Not many customers had come so far, and the head waiter had told Lothíriel to take a break. It was heaven-sent, as for the whole afternoon she had been too busy to text Éomer and ask about his job interview. Now she was seated on the stairs of the staff entrance at the backyard, holding her phone between her hands and waiting for an answer.

The answer came soon enough.

_It was great. They want me to see a doctor and the department's shrink, but if they give me a pass, I'll get the job._

A few seconds passed, and then she saw he was typing another message.

_Éowyn insisted we go out for drinks to celebrate. You are welcome to join us, if you want._

For a moment she toyed with the idea of going and asking if she could get the rest of the night free, considering it was so quiet. But it was always possible there would be a sudden rush, and anyway her employer would not take well to such requests.

_I'm glad it went so well! I knew you could do it._

After congratulating him, she continued to type, _I would love to join you, but I'm at work. Sorry._

_It's okay. I told her it's too soon anyway. Maybe we can do this again once it's official._

_That sounds great. By the way, are you busy tomorrow? I was thinking of yesterday and how nice it was to get coffee with you. I'd like to do it again soon._

Her heart beat anxiously while she waited for his answer. After yesterday, he had constantly been on her mind. If she didn't focus, she would find herself tracing her own lips in the memory of his kiss. It was no good while she was working, even if it was a slow night.

_I'm helping Éothain's sister to move tomorrow, but I should be free at 5 pm. Is that fine?_

Lothíriel grinned. Things were working out pretty nicely.

_Sounds good. See you then at the same place?_

_Alright. See you tomorrow._

A few more moments, and then another message, _Wish you were here._

Her heart leapt. A warm sensation spread in her chest and she was grinning so that her cheeks hurt. Elbereth, this was going well.

_I wish that too. Can't wait to see you tomorrow. Have a great night!_

_You too._

By the time she got home that night, Lothíriel was still smiling.

* * *

Monday morning Lothíriel found it very difficult to focus at her lecture. Normally, she kept her phone in her bag while she was studying, but now she was anxious to know how Éomer's appointment with the department's psychologist would go. It was pretty much the only thing at this point that still stood between him and his career, and while he was familiar with the procedure from his earlier profession, he had been understandably thoughtful about it last night at dinner. She knew now how much he wanted to join the force and what a disappointment it would be if he couldn't.

It was lunchtime when he finally texted her with the good news: the psychologist had given him green light and his introduction to the new job would begin tomorrow. She immediately called back to celebrate with him and ask a dozen questions about the whole affair, and how soon he would be on active duty.

"This week they're just going to introduce me to the department and show me how things are done. And there will be a few tests to make sure I'm ready to get to the field. But if all goes well, I'm starting patrols next week", he explained, and his usually level voice was heated, even excited.

"Wow. I never realised how much it takes to become a cop, although it makes sense. But I'm really proud of you, no matter how soon you start the actual job", she said in growing sense of admiration.

"Let's first see how it goes", he said moderately. "But I am glad to have this chance. It feels good to be able to do something useful again."

"Have you met any of your future colleagues yet?" she asked him, sauntering idly down the first floor hallway of biology department. The building was of the neo-classical style, which in her opinion gave the place the air of some distant, sleepy era. But the colourful posters and announcements on the board surely were of this day, and so were the modern equipment in each lecture hall and the students with their laptops and tablets. The lab downstairs had instruments that the founders of the department could have only dreamed of in their time. One had to wonder at how different this environment was compared to the one Éomer hoped to settle in.

"Yeah, some of them. Especially the older folk remember my uncle and cousin. I could barely get to my proper interview when they descended on me. They've been acting like I'm the prodigal son come home at last", Éomer replied with a soft chuckle. She laughed as well.

"I think it's good you've already got friends in the force", Lothíriel noted.

"I guess so, but it can also be a burden. My uncle and my cousin left quite the boots to fill. People will expect me to live up to their name", he said, sounding more serious now.

"And you'll do just fine. You are your own man, and if your colleagues can't see that, then they are fools", she told him and the fierce note of her voice surprised even herself.

"Let's hope so", he said, although he still sounded a little bit doubtful. "By the way, are you busy this afternoon? I feel like a minor celebration is in order."

"My classes end at three. We could meet up then?" Lothíriel suggested, immediately brightened by the idea of seeing him later today.

"Sounds good. Send me the address and I'll come pick you up then", he promised.

They said their goodbyes and she texted him the information. She couldn't wait to see him again.

* * *

At times, he had hard time believing he was actually dating.

Only a couple of months ago, the mere idea would have made him laugh. Who would have him, a restless man without a job or a home of his own? But since he had met Lothíriel, he felt much less restless, he had a good shot at getting the job he had wanted, and he had started to look for a flat in the city. Éowyn had insisted he could stay as long as he wanted to, but he was eager to be on his own. He needed to prove he could do this.

And the sweetest, the loveliest girl had accepted him. Part of him had feared that she would heed his words about not being ready, and end it right there. But it was an opportunity he needed to offer, if he meant to do right by her. Yet she had decided to look past all that and let him in her life. It was a relief she had agreed to take things slow – it would give him some time to figure himself out.

Fortunately, "taking it slow" still included "kisses are allowed". A good thing, since the temptation to do just that was often overwhelming when she was close.

That second coffee was as wonderful as the first one. Afterwards, they took a long walk, after which he escorted her home. Then they stood over half an hour still talking before the front door of her apartment building. At last he kissed her good night and she teetered inside like a sleepwalker. He spent another hour just walking and trying to make sense of how happy he felt. Éowyn noticed it too when he got to her flat. She and Faramir gushed over him like a pair of schoolgirls.

Another minor victory came the day after when he had his doctor's appointment. While the results of mandatory blood and drug tests would not come back before next week, the doctor deemed he was right as rain and ready for duty. He still needed to meet the shrink on Monday, but so far it looked like he would soon be joining the force.

Pleased with these developments, Éomer asked Lothíriel out for dinner, which she accepted with her usual enthusiasm. She was painfully pretty in her dark blue dress when he picked her up at her flat and whole night, he could scarcely take his eyes off of her. When he watched the way her long, dark hair brushed against her bare shoulders, something reckless rose in him and he almost began to wonder how hard it would be to persuade her to let him stay the night with her. But he kept himself in check. This was one relationship he didn't want to screw up with thoughtless actions.

Saturday morning, she invited him to breakfast, and he practically flew from his bed on Éowyn's couch – much to his sister's amusement. Lothíriel made them the same meal as the first time he had stayed with her and by her smile, he knew the humour was not lost to her either. Before he took his leave, he finally asked to take her to the art gallery the next day. When he made the suggestion, her eyes lit to such fire as he had not seen before.

Sunday was great. He couldn't say he knew much about art, but Lothíriel was a ready teacher, talking about art history and the artists whose works they were going to see. With the help of her prompts, even he was able to state a few semi-intelligent opinions about the pieces they saw at the gallery. Afterwards, they walked back hand in hand, comfortably negotiating where they should go and eat, and for the first time in a long while Éomer felt in complete agreement with the world.

The thing he soon noticed was that they were not running out of things to say to one another. Rather, the more he spent time with her, the more he had to say. Tension fell from him and he was less and less guarded when they were alone. And in a single week he had laughed more in her company than he had the entire last year.

It was then, as he walked her home after dinner and coffee and she was holding his hand and leaning her head against his shoulder, Éomer admitted to himself that he was falling in love.

* * *

It was an intense week with all the tests and training Éomer had to complete before he could take the uniform. He was glad for it, though: it felt like honing his edge. He had not touched a gun since leaving the Blue Berets.

There was plenty to learn and to refresh in his memory. The systems used at the department for logging and investigation, revisiting procedures and decrees, standard physical tests and self-defence, and a course at the shooting range. He met his new partner, a tough veteran of the streets, and she took him to see the deparment's sport faculties, break rooms, storages and cells. All the while, she was filling him in with everyday gossip and lore, old legendary cases and cops who had been involved, and newer challenges their profession was facing. It was a lot to take in, and every evening he felt quite spent – not physically, but mentally.

Mental weariness made his temper shorter, as it always had, and he was worried it would reflect badly on his new girlfriend. But at least on Tuesday evening she took one look at him and suggested they skip the stand up club she had invited him to attend with her, and instead go take a walk in the marina. Éomer was glad to accept, and as they slowly made their way down the docks and talked leisurely of this and that, he felt like some of his tension just vanished into her sweet, soft voice. She bought them a cup of ice cream, and they shared it on a bench overlooking the bay. When he kissed the spot of melt from her mouth, she gave him the most endearing look of breathless excitement he had ever seen on a woman.

On Wednesday she had work, but his friends appeared to think he had been ignoring them long enough, which was how he found himself at the local boxing range with a bunch of them seemingly eager to beat the living daylight out of him. After a couple of hours of boxing with Éothain and a few others, he did feel unwound and more relaxed, even if he had also discovered how out of shape his technique was. By the time he got to Éowyn's flat and was getting ready for bed, Lothíriel started texting him. It took an entire hour before either could say good night.

He was glad for the darkness in his sister's living room. Nobody would know how he smiled like a smug idiot while he lay on his makeshift bed on the sofa.

On Thursday he completed his tests at the shooting range. He had not been particularly worried about it, as he had always been a good shot – the top of his class at the academy. But perhaps he should have guessed that particular thing would trouble her more or less.

They met at the market after she finished with her art club. Lothíriel had suggested making dinner together, which idea he readily agreed to, and so they went to pick up some things together. He was left in charge of the vegetables while she inspected the fish counter like a detective at a murder scene. But she knew of that matter more than he ever would, and only smiled fondly at her meticulous study of sea product.

Once the shopping was done, they headed back to her place. She told him about her day, and then was asking about his. Eventually, Éomer mentioned his test at the shooting range.

At the time, they were preparing the dinner. She worked with the fish while he was fixing the salad. Aesthetically speaking, his handiwork was hardly very pleasing. A tomato had never entered his hand and left it without looking like someone had ravaged it. But at least Éowyn had shared with him her killer dressing recipe, which salvaged a lot.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lothíriel tensing. Her voice was quiet when she made her question.

"Have you shot people before?" she asked him. Her hands were still working over the fish, but her expression was faraway.

"... yeah. But I've only done it as self-defence. And I'm a lucky one, in that. I was never the one who started the violence", Éomer replied slowly. He didn't want to freak her out, but neither could he lie about this.

"What did it feel like?" she asked after a brief silence.

"I... it's not something I can explain. It's weird and little bit scary how powerful a single object in your hands can make you. We are trained to deal with it, however macabre that may sound. Some people try to get to this line of work because they think it's a way for them to play at being action heroes or just act out whatever sick needs for violence they have. But those types rarely get very far. You need to... to have this sense of responsibility", he said, staring hard at the vegetables before him.

"What if you need to shoot at somebody at your new job? Or... if somebody shoots at you?" she wanted to know. Her hands kept working, even and sure despite the subject.

"It's something every cop needs to be prepared for, even if your whole career went by without a single incident. I'm not worried about it. Few cops have been trained for crisis like I am. And I know that if I take that shot, it's because I've exhausted all other options, and because there are innocent lives depending on it", Éomer said, sure and even. He had dealt with these things years ago, but of course it would be new and strange to her. Before now, he hadn't thought she might be so nervous about his career choice, but he felt a little bit foolish not to have considered it.

So he wiped his hand on a kitchen towel and set it on her shoulder.

"You needn't worry about me. This is a safe city, and you wouldn't believe your eyes if you saw some of the stuff they've designed to improve our security", he told her gently.

She smiled a little bit, though he still saw the concern lurking in her eyes. Well, maybe it was just something she needed to get out of her system. After a few weeks of him returning safe and sound from patrols, she'd realise there was no need to be afraid.

All the same, he did change the subject to ask about her art club. Her tense shoulders visibly relaxed when she began to answer. Soon enough she was even laughing, when he was reaching from under her arm into the refrigerator and taking the opportunity to nuzzle the side of her face. Tiny kitchens had their upsides.

Food was pretty great; she had smothered the fish in butter and fresh herbs and it was easily some of the best he had ever tasted. Lothíriel complimented the salad and he took quiet pride in it, or at least in the fact he had not botched Éowyn's recipe. Afterwards they cleaned up and did the dishes side by side. It was the most ordinary thing in the world and yet he enjoyed more than he could have guessed. After years of training and war camps and irregular life, these simple household chores made him feel somehow more whole than in a long time.

With the kitchen cleaned up, she pulled him down with her on the love seat, which was much too small for them both. But with her half in his lap, his one arm around her, and some feet dangling over the armrests, it was pretty nice. Her travel-sized TV was on but neither of them were really watching it.

"I was wondering earlier", she said lazily as she rested her head against his shoulder, "Has Éowyn been acting as annoyingly as my brothers? They won't leave me alone about you."

He snorted softly.

"What do you mean by not leaving you alone? Are they congratulating you nearly every time they see you, or asking way too personal questions, or trying to figure out my schedule in order to plan how they will eventually murder me?" he asked her. She laughed out loud.

"Oh, they're not that bad. Though I do imagine they are all in various states of existential crisis. I think they still saw me as a ten-year-old up until you came along", she replied dryly as she interlaced their fingers. She was silent for a minute before she continued in a more sober tone, "But to be honest, I think you have it easier than almost anybody else would. They're cutting you special slack because you're their friend and they already know you're a good guy."

"That's a relief", Éomer stated. Even with his background, he didn't particularly want to get all three of her brothers – and Faramir in addition – after his neck. He let out as sigh, "I do see where they're coming from, though. My life's been pretty irregular up until lately. I'd be suspicious, too, if a guy like me was dating Éowyn."

"Well, it's my life", Lothíriel said and sounded a little bit belligerent. Which was a lot more compared to anything he had heard from her now. She squeezed his hand and said, "And if they can't see that you are more steadfast than most people, then they are no better than a bunch of monkeys."

"And I'm glad you think so well of me. But... don't think I don't need to prove myself. Not just to you, or your brothers, but myself, too. It still makes me wonder if this is a very bad timing for us. I am work in progress, Lothíriel, and yet I don't want to lose you", he admitted, speaking very quietly.

She lifted herself up a little bit and kissed his cheek.

"Isn't that all the more reason for me to be here? To see you through it? Don't think I'm so fragile that I can't take a few bumps on the road", she told him in a sound, determined voice.

"It's not that. It's just... look, I don't think you're going to break just like that. But it doesn't mean I don't want to guard you from it", he said slowly. Even this did not seem to completely explain that ball of concern that lived still in his chest: that his own fumbling would drive her away.

Gently she turned his face to her own direction. He almost couldn't meet her eyes, because the trust and warmth in them was so much.

"You're not up against it alone. I know you were made to protect others, and it's something I admire about you. But life is unpredictable. You've got to let it happen, both the good and the bad. For my part, I know I'd rather take the bad with you next to me, not wait for some day in the future when you think you've fixed up yourself and the world around you", she told him clearly and firmly.

Éomer felt like his breath couldn't quite come out normally. Even with her youth and innocence, she could speak with such wisdom and maturity. And maybe she was right. Maybe there was never going to be a point when he would feel like he was ready and worthy of her. Maybe it wasn't his business at all to decide whether he deserved her or not.

Perhaps it was okay to see what happened next.

He didn't know what to say, so he just pressed a kiss against the back of her hand. She smiled and settled her head against his shoulder again. There was cheering and clapping in the TV, but whether it was a sitcom or a talk show, he wouldn't be able to say.

"Do you ever miss it? Your time with the Blue Berets?" she asked suddenly in a quiet voice.

"Not really. There were good moments, I don't deny that, but I'm glad it's over. I wouldn't go back for the world", Éomer replied, trying not to grimace at the idea. He was done trying to be some kind of a hero.

"I just wonder... I'm so ordinary and my life is so small compared to things you've done. I worry that some day, this all will begin to bore you", she confessed still in that same tone.

Immediately he snorted. How could she possibly think he would ever trade _this_ to some distant battlefield?

"I've had enough excitement to last me a lifetime. Don't you ever think I'd like to go back to my old life. This, right here, is all I want", he told her fiercely and tightened the hold of his arm around her.

A soft blush adorned her cheeks and she looked at him in such a way, like this was all she wanted, too. Like he was something truly special in her eyes. Nobody had ever regarded him like she did then and in that moment, he felt as though she was taking his heart in her hands. This woman... he found he would be ready to do just about anything for her.

Something like that couldn't be put into words adequately. So he did the only thing that made sense and leant close to kiss her. She was soft and sweet and melted eagerly into the kiss.

It would be so easy to take it further than that. And the idea was hard to resist, because she felt so damn good, and her every small movement sent sparks of delight and desire all through him. But with great effort, he was able to keep his hands in check and not deepen the kiss the way he wanted to. It wouldn't be right – not yet.

She settled against his chest, head against his shoulder. As though on its own, his hand vanished into the dark mass of her hair. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, just drinking in the moment.

"You know", Lothíriel whispered, so quiet he barely heard her voice, "I've never had a boyfriend who made me feel like you do."

"And what do you feel?" Éomer asked just as quietly.

"Safe. Solid. Certain", she replied at length, as though she couldn't take enough care to choose the right words. Maybe he was projecting, or just generally overwhelmed, but he thought there was another message behind what she was saying. _Don't break my heart._

"... yeah. I feel the same", he agreed, and his whisper was almost inaudible. But he felt her shivering a little bit and knew she had heard him. Although they were both perfectly sober, he felt light-headed as though he had just rapidly consumed a number of shots. Had they just said _I love you_ for the first time?

Oh, Béma. So many times he had told himself they were taking it slow. But it looked like it was impossible to put brakes on this thing.

He began to feel it, in the bottom of his stomach, the base of his skull, and the very centre of his chest: he wanted her so badly. He wanted her in so many ways, as the person to talk about his day, to walk down the marina, to ride with his bike, to put down his roots again, to sleep and wake up with, and just do a thousand little things that had seemed so ordinary until now. And it was so much that he felt like it was filling up his throat with words and emotion. A little bit giddily, he wondered if this was some kind of a reverse panic attack.

But she knew how to defuse the moment and calm the mounting wave of emotion in him. She lifted up her head, kissed his brow and smiled.

"You look tired. Do you want to spend the night here?" she asked him. It was a request he was glad to receive.

"That would be nice", Éomer said, knowing full well he'd have to get up a good deal earlier than normal in order to get back to Éowyn's place and change before he headed to the department. But he already knew it would be worth it.

All the same, when they started getting ready for bed, he also began to feel a little bit wary. Not of himself, but mostly over the worry that she'd think he expected something of her when she let him in her bed. He had spent nights with girlfriends before, but with Lothíriel it was... it felt different this time. Even with his t-shirt and boxer briefs still on, he felt like some lumbering, intruding thing. He also noted the side-eyed glance she gave him, like she was trying not to look but couldn't help herself, and then she got very busy with something in the bathroom.

He took a deep breath and spent a moment bracing himself. _She's letting you in her bed. Don't screw this up. _

To give himself something to do, he made a brief round in the rest of the apartment, making sure the door was properly locked and windows closed. Then he texted his sister he would not be coming home tonight, and not knowing what else to do, settled down in the bed. The sheets smelled like Lothíriel's soap and it helped him relax. It was certainly the best bed he had slept in since... well, it was difficult to remember that far back.

Moments later Lothíriel appeared again. To spare them both, he busied himself with turning over his pillow; the visuals of her in pajamas would probably inspire certain ideas he didn't need at the moment.

After turning off the light she slipped in next to him, trembling slightly in what he guessed was a bout of nerves and shyness. Her manner was surely different compared to the previous night they had spent together, when she had boldly settled down next to him and burrowed close with a drunken little giggle. Now she shifted awkwardly until her back was against his front. Éomer held himself still, hoping it would reassure her. And soon enough she did let out a small breath as she began to grow easier with his presence so close to her.

Gently, carefully, he placed one arm around her. She tensed momentarily, but this time it only lasted for a few seconds.

"Thanks for letting me stay", he whispered into her hair.

"No problem", she replied. There was a silence, and then she continued, "I wouldn't mind it if you brought a change of clothes here. If you want to stay over again some time, you know."

"You'd be okay with it?" he asked and tried not to sound as delighted as he felt.

"Yeah. It seems silly for you to have to go back to Éowyn's every time", Lothíriel said and sounded more sure.

It was his turn to let out a breath. So that was yet another milestone they had reached tonight. He had a permission to bring stuff to her place.

"Sounds good. Thank you", he said and gave her side a quick, gentle stroke. When he let it fall limp again, Lothíriel was quick to catch it in her own and cradle against her chest.

"Good night", she whispered.

"Good night", Éomer echoed and closed his eyes. While he couldn't say he was entirely free of tempting thoughts, he was able to push them aside and just focus on her breathing. Soon enough his own matched it.

Yeah, he was nailing this.

_To be continued. _

* * *

**A/N:** Here is a new chapter! I hope you liked it. :)

Sometimes just writing the love birds being all domestic and cosy is the most delightful thing. I hope it was delightful to read as well! Éomer especially takes great pleasure in these simple things and how easy it's to be with Lothíriel.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

**Doranwen - **Glad to hear it! I hope the story will continue to interest you. :)

**xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - **Thanks!

**sai19 - **Here you go! :)

**Katia0203 - **Oh no, these two are not _that _eager! :D

**Catspector - **Thanks! I must say, I am having a great time writing that smitten kind of feeling between them! :)

**blasttyrant - **I cannot emphasise enough how much that means to me! I hope you continue to enjoy the story. :)

**rossui - **Maybe, or maybe not. ;) Like Éomer thinks to himself, he does have pretty hard time putting on the brakes!

**Rho67 - **Oh dear, so apparently I update at the worst times? :D

I do think what you say makes sense, and I'm glad to hear I was able to take you there with them so well! :)

**Tobiramamara - **I think he's a noble man even in the original, decent and concerned with protecting others. He has to be that way no matter where the story is set, otherwise he's not Éomer anymore. I don't think those are traits that are extinct in modern times, though.

**Jo **\- Thank you! :)

**EStrunk - **Thanks! Glad to hear you are enjoying the story. :)

**Anon - **I would imagine her insecurities will make appearance in one way or another.

Thanks to his past, Éomer does have what you might call nerves of steel - he's not easily intimidated or thrown off balance. Also his calmness to her brothers is partly because he completely sees where they are coming from. Like he tells her, he'd be suspicious too, if someone like him showed interest in Éowyn.

**CarawynO **\- Thank you! It's challenging indeed, bringing two characters from a setting like_ Lord of the Rings _and trying to imagine them in a modern world. But I'm glad if the transition has been successful!

**H321 - **Thank you! :)

**alia00 -** Thanks!

**BlahBabe - **Thank you! I'm glad to hear it's entertaining. :)

**Guest - **Thank you very much!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4  
**

During his break, Lothíriel texted him and asked if he wanted to catch a film tonight. There was some new one that she wanted to see and hoped he'd join her. Éomer readily agreed. Maybe he could stay over again tonight, if the film ran late. Certainly last night and this morning had been a success; she had risen up with him and fixed them a quick breakfast. Having no shared routine yet, the morning had included some fumbling around and a few collisions in her small flat, but the memory only made him smile.

He had some time to kill after his training sessions, so he decided to hit the gym before getting back to Éowyn's place for a shower and change of clothes.

His sister had also got off work. She was seated on the sofa with a bowl of chicken noodles in her hands, and watching with a slight smile as he was getting ready for the evening.

"So, will you be coming home later tonight?" she asked him now. Her tone was light enough, but he knew she and Faramir would be quick to make their own plans if they knew they had the flat for themselves.

"Don't know yet. It depends on whether Lothíriel lets me stay or not", he said, hoping he sounded nonchalant. He was not indifferent to it, though: he was still thinking of how good it had felt to wake up next to her and finding her face the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes.

"You really like this girl, don't you?" Éowyn asked. She had made the variations of this same questions a few times already, but now there was a certain depth to her voice. She was starting to suspect there was more to this than he had previously admitted.

Éomer, who was currently towelling his wild mane of hair, cast her a glance.

"Yeah. She's pretty great", he merely replied. Truth was, saying Lothíriel was great was such an understatement, but Éowyn would probably think he had finally lost it if he started to wax poetic.

"Do you plan to get serious with her?" his sister asked in her usual, blunt fashion. Éowyn had never been one to beat around the bush.

He halted in the middle of the living room, still trying to pat out the dampness of his hair.

"... I never planned on not being serious with her. So I guess the answer is yes", he said slowly and finally lowered the towel. He looked evenly at Éowyn and asked, "Do you think it's too soon?"

She shrugged.

"Only you can know that. And if you keep waiting for the right time, then sooner or later you'll notice that your life went by while you were holding back", she said and slurped at her noodles loudly.

"She said something similar. But she did it with more grace", Éomer noted dryly.

"Naturally. She's the one who still has some illusions left about keeping a straight face around you. Me, I couldn't get rid of you even if I tried", Éowyn said cheerfully and jabbed her fork at his direction. He made a show of rolling his eyes at her, though he was also fighting a smile. Verbal sparring and exchanging light insults were their way of saying _"Love you, you big idiot."_

"Seriously though", she said then, speaking more soberly, "I'm glad to see you like this. More alive and more present. After you returned, it was like your mind was still a million miles away. So if this is thanks to her, then I wouldn't mind it if you two got married tomorrow."

"That's a little bit hasty", Éomer noted warily, though her underlying message was not lost to him.

"Maybe. But I've got a good feeling about her. To be honest, I didn't think you'd get together with someone so wholesome right away. I was expecting a period of irresponsible behaviour, bad decisions and a string of sketchy girlfriends I could sternly disapprove of, until you got your shit together again", Éowyn said, walking a line so thin between humour and solemness that he wasn't certain which was dominant.

"Well, I decided to skip the nonsense and 'get my shit together' right away", he stated briskly and sat down to pull on a pair of fresh socks.

"That is very mature of you and I am proud", Éowyn said and seemed to grow lighter of mood again. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, Éomer got the feeling this was more of a relief to her than she wanted to reveal, and decided not to harp on about it. Their uncle and cousin were gone and he was all she had left of their family. Of course she didn't want to see him spiral down in a series of destructive choices.

"I'm not a kid anymore. If I don't take responsibility of my life, nobody will", Éomer merely said and got up to search for his keys, wallet and phone. Once he had those objects, he grabbed his shoes and his coat.

"Have a nice night. And say hi to Lothíriel for me", Éowyn said as she got up from the sofa, lazily heading for the kitchen.

"I will. Have a good one, too", he replied, gave her a one-armed hug, and made his way out.

* * *

After making their plans for the evening, Lothíriel headed to her father's office in the city centre. She was smiling to herself as she thought of Éomer, the film they were going to see, and the possibility of asking him to stay the night again. Last time had been simply wonderful. Warmth spread across her cheeks and down to the bottom of her stomach when she thought of waking up with his arm around her, and her face pressed against his throat. That incredibly pleasant memory was still making her float as though her feet weren't touching the ground at all.

All the same, she couldn't be daydreaming while having lunch with her father. It was a semi-regular thing for them, even if sometimes they were both so busy that a couple of weeks might go by without it. They had been meeting for lunch ever since she had moved into her own flat and the habit had stuck. She guessed her father felt a little bit lonely now that all his children had homes of their own, even if he had fully endorsed it. While the family business made them a prominent presence in the town, nobody was going to blame Imrahil of his children being spoiled or dependent.

Lothíriel let out a small sigh as she thought back to her childhood. Of her mother she had little memory, and what few images she had were mostly supported by the loving detail her brothers went into when speaking of her. Lothíriel had been barely four years old when their mother had died in a car accident along with their Aunt Finduilas. It had been a black time for the whole extended family.

It had hit Father very hard and for a while, it had been very much as though the four children had lost both their parents. He worked like a maniac, and though the business was better than ever, the family was deeply wounded. Eventually cousin Boromir had interfered and reminded Father that the living needed him more than the dead, which had brought him back to his children. His absence was suddenly turned into an abundance of affection and attention. Still, Lothíriel felt like she and him had truly started to bond when she had reached her teenager years. At times she wondered at how well-adjusted she and her brothers had grown, but maybe that was because even in the darkest of times, they had always taken care of one another.

She met her father in the foyer of his office. He was signing some papers at the reception, but he quickly pushed it away when she entered and greeted him. A bright smile lit his face and he came to her with his arms wide open. Her brothers liked to joke that their father had preserved well, and while Lothíriel wouldn't use that particular expression, she knew what they meant. He retained his poise and subtle taste, and the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes and the silver in his dark hair only lent him a blend of charm and authority. He stood as tall as his sons and had twice the amount of command – though in some cases, namely Amrothos, that was not a difficult feat.

"There you are, dear. How was class?" he asked after giving her a tight hug.

"A bit difficult, so I'll have to hit the library after the lunch. Shall we get going?" she asked him as she linked their arms.

"Absolutely", he smiled and the two stepped outside.

They made way to their regular restaurant a few blocks down. He was asking about her class, and how the art club was going, and other such ordinary things. It felt a little bit weird, because Éomer had been a huge part of her recent activities, but she had not yet told her father about him. She hadn't yet found the right moment to tell him. However, it turned out it was not necessary.

At the restaurant they took their usual table. A waitress brought menus, which they pored over for a bit until both were satisfied with their choices. Father ordered shrimp pasta and Lothíriel chose grilled salmon. When the waitress left with their orders, she leant forward in her chair and prepared to deliver the carefully constructed revelation about her dating status.

But Father cast her a keen, studious look – the kind she imagined he frequently scanned his business partners with while negotiating contracts.

"So, daughter, what is this talk I hear about you and a certain gentleman who has been spending nights at your flat?" he asked evenly.

Lothíriel almost jumped on her seat. Words died in her mouth and she stared at her father with wide eyes.

"Who told you that?" she eventually managed.

"Amrothos mentioned it the other day", he replied wryly, seemingly unfazed by the fact that his youngest son had been the one to spill the beans.

"Amrothos! Of course!" she groaned and briefly thought of how dearly she would like to strangle him right now. He wouldn't be able to keep a secret to save his life.

"Don't be too angry with your brother. I also heard a couple of secretaries gossiping the other day, and you can imagine my disappointment over learning these news from my staff instead of you", Father noted, leaning back in his chair.

She couldn't help but grimace. Yes, her family's business of seafaring equipment was among the biggest ones in the area, but she had personally nothing to do with it, and so she did not think she was deserving of such attention to her private affairs.

"I didn't say anything because I felt it was too soon. I've only known Éomer for a couple of weeks", she said defensively.

"But he's already welcome to stay in your home for the night?" Father pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"He's not like that, Father. He's been more gentle and well-behaved than some brutes I could name. Why, only the other night your own three sons where nowhere to be found when I needed an escort home, but Éomer readily took care that I got there safely", Lothíriel said irritably. She had never had to explain her dating decisions to her father and now she discovered she did not enjoy it one bit. But then, she had never felt as seriously about a guy as she did about Éomer, no matter how short their acquaintance was so far.

Father let out a sigh.

"All the same, I must voice my doubts, daughter. Are you aware of his family history?" he asked her and cast her another of those searching looks.

"I know some of it. I know his uncle and cousin were legendary cops", she said warily, not liking the tone of his voice or where this was going. Whatever skeletons Éomer had in his closet, she'd rather hear it from him.

"Legendary – or infamous. I grant you his uncle Théoden Thengelson was a hero of the force in his time. He did a lot of good work to clean up this town and for that I shall always respect him. But in his later years, he was involved in some less glorious incidents. You were so young at the time, you probably did not pay heed to it. Théoden was involved in a huge case against the White Hand corporation. It's said the CEO of that company pulled on all his strings with the help of his mole, Gríma Galmodson. And Théoden's own son Théodred was killed in a shootout related to that very case", Father explained in a low, stern voice.

"I don't see what that has to do with Éomer", Lothíriel retorted stiffly. Her throat felt tight. Until now, she hadn't realised how much she wanted her family to approve of her boyfriend. She couldn't even begin to think of what this would mean for the relationship – if she was going to have to choose between him and her family. It would surely break her heart.

"It does, in fact. For there is also the matter of his father, Éomund. Did you know he was serving in the army when he died? He was a war hero, surely, but I've also heard it reported he was killed in action because he was reckless. Now his son has decided to take a job that also deals with risky situations. You must understand why I'm worried, Lothíriel. The men of that family have a rather particular record with dangerous circumstances", Father now told her.

Their food arrived. He spread a napkin in his lap and picked up his fork and knife as though nothing had happened. But Lothíriel found her appetite entirely lost. Her heart ached so that the pain mounted all other thoughts and needs. She had sensed the sadness in her boyfriend when he had talked about his family, but only now did she understand why it was so poignant. She didn't know what she wanted to do more, race to the police department to give him a tight hug and tell him it was okay, or yell her face off at her father in his defence.

At last she began to talk.

"That's not fair. You can't judge someone based on their family. All my life you've been telling me you want me to find my own thing and pursue it! Why can't he do the same? So his family has seen grief and misfortune. What about it? It doesn't make me feel wary of Éomer – it only makes me care about him more!" she said, speaking more hotly as she went on. Her voice rose as well.

"And anyway, you shouldn't be telling me any of this. It's his story to tell when he feels ready. What if he now decides he can't trust me or my family, seeing the way you go gossiping behind our backs? It's not your business to decide whether I can be with him or not. Has it occurred to you that I'm a grown woman now and I am in charge of my own life? You still haven't stopped treating me like a tiny baby and I am sick of it!" Lothíriel ranted at her father, her voice so loud now that the other patrons were starting to give them looks. But she only cast a fierce glare around herself and lifted her head up proudly. Her ire was rarely provoked, so that people took her often for a mild and timid girl. But the rareness of her anger did not mean she was incapable of it.

Father stared at her surprise, his utensils frozen right above his pasta. The suddenness of her outburst had rather shocked him, not least because it had been years since the last time she had acted so. But she stared at him hard, hands curled up into fists in her lap, and her salmon entirely forgotten before her.

He let out a breath and lowered his cutlery as though he was worried he'd break the objects.

"Dear daughter", he said very softly, seemingly ignoring the stares they were still getting, "I do not say these things because I somehow enjoy being an overbearing old prude. I'm sure this young man has been perfectly charming with you. But you are my only daughter and I only want you to be safe and happy."

"How can I be happy if my family won't trust me? If you don't see me as a person of my own but a child to be lectured? He does make me feel safe and happy. Isn't that enough to at least give him a chance?" Lothíriel asked her father. Her voice remained vehement, even if she had lowered it.

She saw his expression grow softer. First she thought it was resigned, then somehow bittersweet. She did not understand right away why that was.

"All right, then. You make a passionate case for him and that in itself is no commonplace occurrence. I will give him a chance. However, if I get the slightest suspicion that he's headed down the same path as his kinsmen before him, do not think I will hesitate", Father said with a very curious mixture of gentleness and severity.

It was now Lothíriel's turn to feel surprised. After the way he had started, she had not thought he would give in so easily.

"Here I was prepared for a full scale yelling match in the middle of a restaurant", she blurted out and became embarrassingly aware of how publicly they had just argued. She was generally more well-behaved than this, but she couldn't just let people speak unfairly of Éomer, even if they were family.

Her father gave her a wry smile.

"Oh, but that is precisely why I chose this place to talk it over. I figured if you were unafraid to defend him despite the setting, then it would show how serious you are about your young man", he said, which surprised her even further. Well, she knew her father was more sly than she usually gave him credit for, but it was still rather unexpected.

But what shook her even more was that same bittersweet look returning to his pleasant features. In soft tones he continued, "Still, it would be a lie if I tried to deny it's partly because of your mother. Just now you reminded me of her so much, it felt like her spirit had descended on you. She too was fierce in standing up for her own."

Her throat grew tight again and she swallowed hard against the sensation. She knew how much he still grieved for the loss of her mother. And truth was, even though she hardly remembered the woman who had given birth to her, she too had often felt her absence acutely. It was strange to think of her own actions mirroring those of a person she had never truly known. What would her mother have thought of Éomer? The question was not painless.

But Éomer had no family left for her to meet aside from Éowyn. And because of that, she wanted her own home and family to be open and welcoming to them.

"I just think everybody deserves a chance", Lothíriel said at length.

"We'll see", Father said, much more wary than she was. He cast her an even look, "Why don't you invite him for dinner with us? I would like to make my own judgement."

"Let's hope he'll agree to come. That is not certain after you've decided to tell me things about his family he should have been the one to share", she noted and did not try to hide her grim tone. "But if he does, you must promise to be civil and make him feel welcome."

"Of course. I will be as gentle as a lamb", Father promised with a faint smile and went on eating his pasta. Lothíriel lowered her eyes to the salmon before her. She didn't feel hungry anymore, and the fish had probably cooled off by now, but she still had a long day ahead of her.

Not to mention, she was going to see Éomer tonight. _Oh boy_. If he agreed to the idea of dinner after hearing of her conversation with her father, it would be a wonder.

* * *

Éomer was on a pretty fine mood when he walked to meet Lothíriel at the cinema. Weirdly enough, he even felt like he wanted to whistle. He couldn't help but smile. As he thought of the night ahead, being with her and potentially falling asleep next to her once more, he almost laughed out loud. Life was good.

He spotted her before she did him before the cinema. Even from afar he noticed the look on her face, like something was troubling her. She had this pinched expression and she was shifting anxiously, yet her focus was not in her surroundings. His good cheer dampened a bit. Had something happened?

Still, she did smile when she spotted him and answered his greeting kiss without any reservation. So at least everything was fine in that regard.

"Hi", he said, still keeping his arms about her, "Is everything okay? You were looking like something is bothering you."

Lothíriel shook her head and smiled slightly.

"I'm fine. Let's go get the tickets", she merely replied, linked her arm with his, and began to pull him towards the cinema. He frowned and wanted to ask what was the matter, but then she had already ushered them into the entry hall. It wasn't a good place for interrogating her. He told himself he was being paranoid. This seemed likely, considering the way she started to chat lightly once they had their tickets. Éomer decided she had just been thinking of her studies. She had told him enough about it by now for him to understand how complicated academic work could be.

The film was okay, though the most enjoyable part of it for him was spending time with her. At some point her hand found his in the dark theatre. It remained there until the end credits began to roll.

However, when they got outside and the crowd thinned around them as the audience went their ways, Lothíriel fell quiet again. She was staring ahead, seemingly lost in her thoughts even though her hand was safely clasped inside his.

"Seriously, is something the matter?" Éomer asked again when he couldn't stand it anymore. Somewhere deep, anxiety was starting to throb like an open wound. No wonder. She was about the first good thing that had happened to him since coming home, and only now did he begin to realise how bad it would be if _this_ failed. No, her current mood wasn't necessarily due to anything he had done, but it was not a guarantee of anything. Sometimes things escalated and relationships became collateral damage.

She startled a little bit and cast a restless look up at him. It disconcerted him even further.

"It's nothing", she said weakly.

"Please don't lie to me", Éomer said. He didn't like how hard his voice sounded, but that was the way he had always been for him: anger made it easier to ignore that he was scared.

Her eyes widened and for a moment she stared at him as though she had never seen him before. Naturally, it made him regret his tone even more.

Lothíriel seemed to shake herself and at last she replied.

"Look, it's not something I want to talk about here on the street. Let's get to my place and... I'll try to explain", she said softly.

He frowned and wanted to demand a proper answer right away, but Éomer told himself that would not be a very good idea. It would only freak her out and make her think that despite the smooth ride so far, he was hiding a hideous temper behind it all. And that – well, he couldn't imagine it ending very nicely.

"Right", he agreed at length, even though it did nothing for his growing concern. He wasn't usually so bad at handling emotional stress, but with her... it felt different. And deep down he knew it was simply because he was already terrified of losing her.

By the time they got to her flat, he had already come up with a dozen scenarios of what could be wrong. Every time, he reverted to the thought that she was going to end things with him.

She was lighting the lamps while he stood half in the living room, half in the entry way. He was glad they had not gone to dinner, because he was starting to feel fairly sick in his stomach.

"Do you want something to drink? I've got beer in the refrigerator. Or I could make us some coffee", she offered nonchalantly, seemingly unfazed by his mounting paranoia.

"No thanks", he replied and busied himself with hanging his jacket. Then Éomer directed a keen stare at Lothíriel. He took great care to keep his voice soft and calm, "Won't you talk to me?"

She let out a sigh and sat down opposite the love seat. Reluctantly he sat down as well, not wanting to loom over her like some mad brute. Still, he had to actively keep himself from tapping the floor with his foot in anxiety.

"I met my dad today for lunch and we talked about you. He told me about... about your family", she began hesitantly. Her grey eyes regarded him unsurely.

"What did he tell you?" Éomer asked. Despite himself, he grew tense at once.

"He told me your father died in war. And something about your uncle and the White Hand corporation... he was worried, I think", she replied, looking as though she was ashamed to have heard these things.

A bitter taste filled his mouth. _Right._ So that's how it was going to be, then? He was well aware of how this town treated his family's tragedy as popular entertainment. Some among the wealthy, especially Saruman's former friends, just loved to talk about Uncle Théoden in the worst possible light, sometimes going as far as making Théodred the sad victim of Théoden's madness and incompetence. Even Éomer's own father had not escaped the ever-hungry story-spinners. You'd think the dead had earned some respite, but that was hardly the case.

So of course her words hit a nerve. The whole disaster had been partly the reason he had got out of the country. It was still a sore spot for him, even though Éowyn had insisted rumours had died a long time ago, and their poor uncle was remembered more and more with respect as time passed. But if Lothíriel's family were among those who regarded his family as fair game for their own amusement...

He stood up in a quick motion. She startled visibly – a tell-tale sign that his demeanour had changed for the worse, but at the moment Éomer was too overwrought to care.

"Sounds like you and him had some juicy gossip to share, then", he snapped angrily. "Tell me, what does your father say about us? That my family is but a bunch of mad dogs someone should put down as soon as possible? And he's not going to allow you to get involved with me?"

"No! It was not like that!" she tried to put in, but he was getting angrier by the second. It was stupid and irrational and it terrified him witless.

"Then what was it like? Why else would he be spilling that history to you, as if he had any right to drag _my dead family_ through mud for yet another gawking audience?" he growled, and it burned in his skull and the pit of his stomach, the rage and torment of those black days. As if burying Théodred hadn't been enough, he and Éowyn had also had to watch Uncle's heart give out during the long and humiliating lawsuit against Saruman. Some of the vile headlines from tabloids still flashed across his memory like a kind of branding steel. Granted, Saruman had been put behind bars in the end. But even justice had not fixed all the damage that had been already done. Uncle Théoden had not lived past spring.

Lothíriel looked vaguely ill. For a moment she was too shocked to say anything, until suddenly she seemed to find her resolve again.

"How can you say that?! Do you seriously think I take morbid pleasure in what happened to your family? I was horrified! And just so you know, I actually defended you to my father! I told him he had no business talking to me about your past!" she lifted her voice, and even in the middle of his anger, he could marvel at the power she held in it.

"What do you think I can expect? This is what my life has been since my father failed to come home alive! Ever since, I've never been judged for myself! And it's pretty clear the only thing people expect from me is to self-destruct as soon as possible!"

Now he was shouting. There was a strange, rough tone in his voice, the kind he had not heard in it ever since a few fist-fights with local reporters who had not known to keep their distance.

But she wasn't trying to match his volume. She looked at him with wide, teary eyes.

"Do you feel like that's what I think of you? Answer me honestly", she said, so much softer but still with that same power, and somehow it was more profound, more impactful than all the screaming he could ever do.

He took a few deep breaths. He could almost hear Éowyn's voice from the past: _Just breathe. Just let it go. _And just like back then, he did feel the anger subsiding.

"... no. No, you're not like that", Éomer finally agreed. And with that statement, shame overcame him. He had acted like a complete brute and it was well within her rights to throw him out right now. And if he had ruined this, then he could only blame himself.

Lothíriel fell to sit down again, seemingly unsure of what to do. He didn't sit down; instead, he fell on his knees before her. He felt like he might choke with violent emotions. How terribly he feared that he had just shown himself to be the kind of savage her father thought him, all the grief he still had for his uncle and cousin, and all the sublime tenderness he had for this sweet, precious girl who had done nothing to be yelled at in this manner. For whatever reason she allowed him to take her hands and kiss them.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be yelling at you. None of it is your fault", he said quietly, staring at the soft palms of her hands. Carefully he raised his eyes, and she met his gaze with such compassion that it nearly broke his heart.

He cleared his throat and started to speak again.

"Look... you're the first person in a long time who never treated me like a time-bomb. Not counting Éowyn, you know. The moment you saw me, you were just... you were curious, but in this sweet and innocent way. It felt like turning a page. And I want that, Lothíriel. I want to start over and leave all that shit behind me. But it's so damn hard when at every turn, somebody wants to remind me of it", he explained slowly. Once more, he felt sick. If her talk with her father hadn't changed her mind about him, this stupid outburst surely would.

She said nothing. She withdrew her hands from his, and he started to panic, but then she cradled his face between her hands. Ever so gently, she pressed her forehead against his.

His eyes fell shut as though on their own. It felt like waves of calmness radiated from where her hands touched his face, and slowly the tightness in his muscles began to unwind. Éomer felt a little bit like a wild animal that has just been tamed. With her sweetness she had overcome him.

Eventually she pulled back slightly and he opened his eyes again to meet hers.

"I see before me a man who is solid and trustworthy and loving. That's what matters to me. I couldn't care less about what anybody else says. I wish I could have ignored what my father said, but it's not possible because I care about you. And... and I knew I had to tell you, because I want us to be honest with one another", she told him firmly.

He let out a low, anxious groan, and then pulled her into a kiss. What else could he do when hearing such words from her, when it was all he could possibly dream of? She tumbled down into his lap, and so they remained on the floor for a good while.

At the end of it, her hair was tousled and there was a delightful flush on her cheeks. And she felt so good in his arms, and he wanted nothing more than to just lose himself in her and forget about his sad, stupid life and sad, stupid problems. But where he was at the brink of losing all control, she still retained some reason.

"Why don't you go and take a hot shower? It'll make you feel a bit better. Then let's go to bed", she suggested gently.

He decided that was the best option for tonight. It wasn't fair to try and use her as a crutch to deal with his issues. Yes, tension was growing between them as far as intimacy went, and he wanted her badly. However, he cared about her too much to be feckless. And after the confrontation, he felt too exhausted to be able to perform any grand romantic deeds.

Lothíriel was right, all the same: after ten minutes under a stream of hot water, Éomer did feel slightly less lost and weary – even if her tiny bathroom still made him feel a lumbering fool. He changed into a fresh t-shirt and boxer briefs and slowly made his way to the bedroom.

She was seated on the bed, with blankets turned over. Already in her pajamas, she smiled at him and patted the spot next to herself. He needed no other invitation.

This time, she burrowed close to him without any uncertainty, wrapping her arm about his midsection and using his shoulder as a pillow. She was warm and soft against his side, and it was all simply too sweet to recall his earlier fury. It was easy to be calm with her.

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it", she said when they had settled down, "but if you ever do, I'm right here."

Éomer said nothing. He simply shifted so that he could kiss the top of her head. Then he tightened his hold around her, letting her know that he had heard her.

He didn't know how soon he would be able to really open up about that dreadful time in his life. At least, he now had a feeling it might be okay as long as it was with her.

* * *

They slept late the next morning. Lothíriel felt they both needed some extra rest – he even more than her, thanks to the long and intense week with his training and preparing for field work.

She woke up in the now familiar position of him spooning her. It felt extremely good, with his solid chest against her back, one arm around her, and one of his legs wedged between hers. She almost purred out loud at the degree of comfort and warmth he was providing. _No more chilly nights, as long as he stays._

Éomer didn't stir as she carefully turned so that she could face him. He slept still, breathing evenly into her hair. As far as she could see, his peace was not shadowed by last night's little disaster.

She let out a small sigh as she regarded his sleeping face. Her poor dear. At times she had seen that sadness in his eyes, but only now was she starting to comprehend how deep it ran. His anger had surprised and even unnerved her a little bit, but fortunately, she had been able to stay calm – and eventually calm him as well. Her heart ached for him when she recalled the way he had been kneeling before her, so exposed with the emotions he must have been hiding for a long time.

Had her father known? Did he have any idea of what a sore wound his words had torn open? Well, she could have said nothing. However, that was not the kind of relationship she wanted to have with Éomer. He read her keenly enough to know something had been bothering her and to thwart his curiosity she would have had to lie. And something told her that his outburst last night was small compared to how he would react if she lied to him.

Still, she thought it was hopeful that he was so keen to try and move on. He had been saying so time and again. It might be more difficult than they had first thought, what with all the memories it stirred in him to start his new job with the police. But Lothíriel was certain Éomer would soon show that he was his own man indeed and so put the ghosts of his uncle and cousin to rest in the minds of his colleagues – and eventually his own, too.

Her musings came to a close when she felt him stirring. He let out a soft sigh, his arm tightened around her, and then he slowly opened his eyes. The warm, sleepy look in them simply made her melt.

"Morning", he uttered in a quiet, hoarse voice.

"Morning", she whispered back. And because she felt bold and full of affection for him, she pressed her lips to his.

It started as a sweet, sleepy thing. He was still only half awake, and so they took their time. But soon enough it began to grow deeper, and his hand found a strip of exposed skin where the hem of her t-shirt had rolled up. And before she knew it, they were making out with quite the abandon. It wasn't like he was the first man she had kissed, or even engaged with in some enthusiastic snogging, but this... this felt different. This was right.

But the longer it went on, the harder it became not to pay attention to how little fabric there was between them at the moment; he was so warm and more and more often her fingers slipped against his naked skin. Each touch sent faint shivers through them both and the loss of all control loomed ever closer. So she began to hesitate.

Éomer noticed it. He pulled back carefully, though his arm still remained around her. They were both breathing unevenly; perhaps his heart was also racing as fast as hers.

"Are you okay?" he asked her in a low, rough voice. The burning look in his eyes made her mouth run very dry, but no matter how much he appeared to want her, he was not trying to test her limits.

"Yes. This is just... this is a lot", she replied and was surprised at the husky note of her own voice. But at the same time, she felt frustrated. Why was it so hard to tell him that she liked him very much and wanted to be with him, but this was so new to her and she hardly knew what to do with herself?

"Yeah. I know what you mean", he murmured and pressed a small, gentle kiss on the top of her head. And somehow it made her relax again. She wasn't the only one who was overwhelmed.

Suddenly, it hit her how very lucky she was.

"You're pretty great, you know", Lothíriel whispered in a trembling voice. It was such an understatement for the affection she felt for him just then, but it was the best she could do at the moment.

Éomer let out a soft, throaty laugh before kissing her again. It was that sweet, gentle sort once more, and whatever passions had previously run free, were now back in check.

"Maybe. But I'm not even half as great as you", he told her with another lingering kiss. Then he got all business-like and propped himself up on his elbow, and said, "I believe it's my turn to make some breakfast. You stay right there."

_If only they could see you like this,_ Lothíriel thought to herself as she watched him get up and felt her heart swell in her breast for the love of him, _then they would never think there was no hope for you. _

_To be continued. _

* * *

**A/N: **Here is a new chapter! I hope you all enjoyed it. :)

I've got to admit, I was a little bit surprised myself by the events of this chapter. I did have an idea about Éomer's family history, but its full devastating impact on him became clear to me only when I was plotting this chapter. I think it's the way it had to go, considering how deeply he feel his emotions.

In Imrahil's defence, he's not trying to be a jerk, even if it's unfair for him to reveal these things without Éomer's consent. He's simply an overprotective parent who wants to know his child is safe. Anyway, I think he'd be more likely to remember the events surrounding Théoden and Théodred and be worried about it, than Lothíriel's brothers are. They would have been younger at the time - Elphir was probably off to some university and maybe Erchirion too, so the whole matter would not have appeared on their radar. Amrothos would have been too young and I don't think he generally is concerned with that kind of a thing.

As for Lothíriel, despite her youth and inexperince, I see her as a person of subtle wisdom and gentle patience, which enable her to deal with her boyfriend's trauma so well.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

**Rho67 - **I'm glad to hear my story is so anticipated! And I'm happy to hear you liked it so well. :)

**mycarnation - **Thanks for your comments! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. :)

I think a person would ordinarily talk about them as the Blue Berets, instead of using the full organization jargon. Anyway, glad if I could actually deliver some new information!

Also I'm happy to hear you enjoy my Éothiriel stories, and that I was able to convert you to shipping them! :D

**Guest - **Remember to breathe! :D

**blasttyrant - **Indeed he is! ;)

**EStrunk - **Thank you! Happy to hear you are enjoying it. :)

**Doranwen - **Thank you! It's great to hear that people do enjoy this modern setting! One always has doubts whether or not it is true to the characters.

Also thank you for pointing out the mistakes! It is indeed an issue of mine, forgetting to add "the". I'll try pay extra attention to it!

**xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - **That may be, but he does have his issues, as this chapter hopefully shows!

**Jo - **Thank you! I'm glad you like the story. :)

**Doria Nell - **It's lovely to hear my writing is actually reminding people of their own lives and happy moments with loved ones! I hope you continue to enjoy this story. :)

**Anon - **Thank you! :)

**rossyi - **I'm glad to hear it! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Saturday was a sunny day, so after breakfast Lothíriel suggested they get out of the town for a bit and go see the cliffs that stood over the sea. There was a nature path she loved to visit when she could and she didn't need to persuade him very long. Her excited chatter and bright eyes would have made Éomer agree to almost anything.

He had been to the cliffs a couple of times in the past, but it was years since the last time. Going for a hike sounded like the perfect way to unwind after last week's stress. After getting dressed and preparing sandwiches for light lunch, they left to pick up his motorcycle. He had promised to take her out for a ride, after all.

Lothíriel looked a little bit nervous when she saw his motorcycle, so he took particular care of explaining how it worked, how she should sit down behind him, and what to expect when he started to drive. She was unbearably cute with the spare helmet on, but he didn't tell her that.

She held on tight to him when he started the bike, and her grip remained just so for several blocks until she began to relax. When he felt like she was not quite so tense anymore, he dared to go a little faster. You couldn't really appreciate the ride without some speed.

His own tension dissolved, too. The sun was shining, there was an open road before him, and he was riding with his girlfriend. It was pretty amazing, especially after the last night's disaster.

Thanks to their sleeping late and having a long breakfast, it was midday when they reached the nature path leading to the cliffs. There was a small café and a parking lot where they left the motorcycle. Lothíriel was so eager to get going, he had to use his full stride to keep up with her.

Her delight was infectious. With a smile he listened to her as she talked about the nature path, the wildlife there, and the excursions she had made to this place with her brothers. The path was well-trodden. First it climbed a bit, until suddenly it fell into a small vale of green and lush salt marsh. On some spots there were duckboards to protect the delicate ground from too much erosion. Here and there were guide signs that explained about the plants and animals close to the nature path, but as could be expected, Lothíriel had many more details to add.

He loved listening to her. Her sincere enthusiasm was endearing and the wealth of information she shared made him feel like he was seeing this place for the very first time. Yet moments came, when he wasn't so much paying attention to her words, but just the way she looked and how she sounded - her voice, the way it rose and fell with bursts of excitement, the way her eyes shined when she looked at him... suddenly, it occurred to Éomer that no matter what his life until now had been, he could trust her indeed. His brutish behaviour last night had not scared her too badly. She was on his side.

The path began to climb again. The cliffs rose up before them mighty and steep and the path snaked its way up to the top. The rise took a while, as the terrain was a bit difficult in some spots. Up there lay a wide heath, which he knew to be very pretty in spring and summer. Judging by the way Lothíriel was smiling, he guessed she loved the place no matter the time of year.

Near the path, there were a few rocks that had a pretty nice view over the sea. They decided to take their lunch there on a flat surface. Lothíriel took the sandwiches out of her bag while he handled the thermal flask and poured full cups of coffee for them both. There was something about crisp sea air and hot drink that just worked exceptionally well. For a while, they ate and drank in companionable silence, just enjoying the view to the sea. There was some wind, but the skies were mostly clear and sunlight danced in bright spots on the waves that rolled towards the shore. High above, sea birds were riding the currents of air. Éomer breathed deeply and felt in complete agreement with the world.

"I was thinking of last night", Lothíriel said then, a half eaten sandwich in one hand and coffee in the other, "I hope you're not upset about it. I didn't want to bring up bad memories."

"I'm not upset", he told her firmly. "Not with you, anyway. You couldn't have known and... and I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I was out of line."

"No, don't say that", she hurried to say. "You had a right to be angry. My father shouldn't have told me that story... I just hate to think you feel like I may see you differently because of it."

"I know you don't", he said softly, staring at his coffee rather than her. "I trust you."

"I'm glad to hear it", she said softly and leaned close to kiss his cheek briefly. The sweet little gesture made him smile a little bit.

"And I'm just relieved it didn't scare you off. I was dreadful. It's been a while since I lost my temper like that", he admitted and a twinge of the shame he had felt last night came back. It made an unpleasant shiver run down his spine.

"It's okay. I can't say I wasn't shocked at first, but then I saw how much you were hurting. I felt so bad. We were supposed to have a nice night together and I ruined it by bringing up painful memories", she said and poured herself more coffee.

"You didn't ruin anything. I think... maybe it's not so bad after all. I like what you said about being honest. That's what I want, too. It's easier being honest when you know about each other's baggage", he said slowly. Often in his life, he had found it difficult to really open up about the things that troubled him. But sitting here with her, as the sea rose and fell below the cliff and sunlight danced on the waves, talking did not feel so bad.

"Yeah", she agreed. Then she threw a look at him he could only call timid. There was a question in her eyes, but she seemed to hesitate. He smiled at her faintly, hoping it came across as encouraging.

Apparently it did. Because then in a quiet voice, she asked him, "... does that mean you want to... to get serious?"

For a moment they just stared at one another. Then Éomer lifted his hand and brushed a stray lock of hair off of her face.

"I do", he said solemnly. "Past couple weeks, I've been happier than in a long time. I can't really explain what that means to me. I know you could probably do a lot better and it sounds like at least your dad thinks so, but... I'm yours to keep, if you'll have me, baggage and all."

She let out a choked little sound as she moved closer to him. He nearly dropped his coffee when she leaned close to kiss him.

It was one of those simple but perfect moments that are imprinted to your memory, clear and bright against a decade's worth of ordinary minutes. All the noise of his life up until this point died down and new paths sprang before his feet, more hopeful than anything he had expected for himself. And she - she would lead him down those paths and show how to at last live without anger and regret of past days.

Lothíriel remained close to him, brushing her gentle fingers across his cheek. His own were tangled in her hair, loosening the braid she had arranged in it. There was a delightful flush on her cheeks and her eyes were so bright, and it all overwhelmed him so that he just had to say it out loud.

"I love you", Éomer said, barely noticing how rough his voice came out. He hadn't meant to say such things today, even if it was more true with each day. But there it was, and he wouldn't take it back for the world.

The colour on her cheeks deepened. And even before she opened her mouth, he knew.

"I love you, too."

* * *

They spent a couple more hours wandering the cliffs, but Lothíriel did not pay as much heed to the nature path as she did to the man walking next to her. Even now, her heart raced in her breast.

He had told her he loved her. And she had responded in like manner, for it was nothing but the truth. Yes, it had happened quickly, and there was still so much they needed to learn about one another, but she was certain that learning would not change the way she felt - it would only deepen this thing that had blossomed between her and him.

The air began to grow colder as the afternoon passed. There was a bite to the wind and the sun that had been so warm earlier in the day vanished behind a veil of clouds. So Lothíriel suggested they turn back and head home. Éomer didn't seem to be feeling as cold as her, but he didn't argue. So they began to make their way back to the parking lot where they had left his motorcycle.

She had been a little bit nervous about riding it at first, but his calm explaining and the confident way he handled the vehicle had made her feel secure. By the time they had reached the nature path, she had actually been enjoying the speed and the sense of freedom that she had never felt while riding a car.

Now, however, she was getting too cold to take pleasure in it. Lothíriel pressed close to Éomer in the hopes of stealing a bit of his body warmth. He squeezed one of her hands gently before he fed some gas to the engine and took them to the road again.

As they rode back to the town, she thought of the emotional roller coaster of these past two days. Perhaps it was good they had gone through these things. Today, she felt like he had been less on guard. There was a new level of closeness between them. Often over the past few hours, she had glanced his way and seen something incredibly soft and dear in his face when their eyes met.

Even if he had not said out loud that he loved her, she would have known it.

By the time they reached her apartment building, she was so cold and stiff it was difficult to get off of the bike. Thankfully, Éomer offered her his arm for support.

"You should have said you're cold sooner. We didn't have to stay out that long", he scolded her gently as she tried to get some life back to her fingers by blowing warm air on them. She needed them in working condition to be able to fish for her keys.

"I had such a lovely time, I don't mind if my nose freezes and falls off", she said and smiled, even if she was starting to shake a little bit. She did find her keys, but they almost fell from her icy hands.

He grunted and caught the keys before she dropped them. He had the door open in a fraction of time she would have needed, and then he was whisking her up the stairs.

Movement warmed her up a little bit. But when they reached her apartment, and he was fussing with the door and their helmets, she took a moment to just watch him. Her body was half frozen but in her chest, something warm was glowing. And it was that sensation that inspired what she said next.

"I think I'm going to take a hot shower to warm up. If... if you want to, you can join me", she said tentatively, ready to back off in case he wasn't agreeable.

His eyes widened in surprise and nearly dropped his helmet. He seemed to take a deep breath.

"Are you sure?" he asked her in a low, throaty voice. She thought he looked almost afraid to let himself believe she was serious. Poor darling still wasn't convinced he deserved her.

"Yes, I am", Lothíriel replied and kicked off her shoes. Maybe actions would speak louder and more reassuring than words. She let her coat fall on the floor, and then she began to undo the zipper of her hoodie.

Éomer spent one more moment just staring at her. Then she saw that burning light ignite in his eyes, and he jerked abruptly. He began to undress as well, though his gaze was fixed on her. She swallowed hard and felt her heart pick up its pace. Her hands were trembling, but it was not just because of being cold at this point.

She almost forgot her own clothes while stealing long glances of him. Each look made her mouth feel more and more dry. He had a professional soldier's physique and his movements were efficient and effortless. Even without a stitch on his body, his stance was straight and proud. Her breath caught in her throat; it was almost too much to look at this golden man. She felt like her skin had turned permanently into goosebumps, but something dark and heady was starting to build up in the pit of her stomach. And so she let her bra fall on the floor, and her hand was almost steady when she used it to pull him with her into the bathroom.

Even alone, she often felt like running into the walls in the bathroom. With him there was almost no extra space, which also meant there was no time for shyness and modesty. She was effectively pressed between him and the wall, and dizzily she wondered at how warm he was compared to the chilly tiles against her back. But he turned the water on and boldly pulled her against himself, and when his hungry mouth descended on hers, she forgot about her nerves.

It was incredible. The hot water, his glowing skin, the cool, slippery tiles that she kept hitting time and again as they shifted in the narrow space... his fingers were doing things that she had only dared to imagine in her darkest dreams. It was a good thing her bathroom was so small, after all. Otherwise, she might have collapsed straight into the washbasin.

Very soon they were both dripping wet and panting. And he had veritable flames in his eyes when he growled, "Do you want to take this to the bedroom?"

"... yeah. Let's do that", she agreed and began to grope around him for the handle to turn off the water. As soon as it was off, he lifted her by the back of her knees and steered towards the bedroom. She didn't even care that they dripped water all over the floors and carpets.

He lowered her down gently and settled down next to her. Now he slowed down a bit, taking his time in exploring her skin and each kiss he stole from her lips. Her own hands were less sure. She was trembling again, but it was merely the wonder and joy of discovering something new and exciting. More and more often she heard him making this deep, gravelly noise in his throat, and each time a shiver went down all the way to her toes.

Suddenly he moved to pin her down and his sheer size and weight made her breath catch in her throat. It didn't scare her - it just surprised her and made her blood sing with delight. Dark, blazing eyes stared down at her with a need that bordered on desperate.

"You're so beautiful, it drives me mad", he said, and his voice was so hoarse it almost didn't sound like his own.

Lothíriel tried to catch her breath. Slowly she intertwined her fingers with his and shifted under him. The movement caused some very interesting sensations and he groaned loudly.

"Do you think I'm not mad for you?" she asked him. Her own boldness rather took her by surprise, but also thrilled her.

He gave her a look that essentially devoured her. Then he momentarily claimed her lips in a rough, urgent kiss.

"Hold on to that thought", he whispered against her mouth, swiftly got up, and vanished into the living room. She could hear him rummaging through his clothes and she could very well guess what he was trying to find. She swallowed hard and once more attempted to breath evenly, but her heartbeat sped into a mad staccato when he appeared again and returned to the bed.

But if she had expected him to just get to it right away, she had been wrong. Gently he brushed his hand across her face before cradling her head with it.

"There's no need to be nervous. It doesn't have to be perfect right away", he told her, and his voice was so tender and warm that almost all her anxiety melted. He pressed a small, soft kiss on her brow and added, "Just tell me if you're uncomfortable or something feels wrong."

How he was able to speak so clearly and coherently, she couldn't say. Her answering grunt was less than sophisticated, but he seemed to understand.

For a while, Éomer distracted her with a slow trail of kisses across her mouth, her jaw, and then her neck. He found a tender spot there even she had not been aware of until now, and when she hissed in breath through her teeth, he chuckled in delight before paying very careful attention to it. Soon enough she was squirming in sheer frustration - which appeared to be his goal, judging by the low, satisfied growl against her neck.

And then he moved swiftly against her. A strange little squeal escaped her mouth and her eyes grew wide. Her nails dug into his shoulders almost as though on their own. For a moment she was too shocked to pay attention to anything except how he felt like, but then he gave her a small, tentative kiss.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. His voice was trembling a little bit, and she guessed it had to be at least in part because of the effort it took to keep himself still. She met his eyes then and was overwhelmed by what she saw in them.

He looked at her like there was nothing in the world that mattered to him as much as she did.

"I'm fine", she stammered. "Don't stop."

He smiled and bent his head down again, kissing her slow and deep. It helped her relax, which he too noticed soon enough. When she did, he began to move once more.

At first she felt self-conscious and clumsy, hardly knowing where to put her shaking hands. But something urgent began to take over, and she wanted him to feel warm and loved. He had said it didn't have to be perfect but damn, that wasn't going to stop her from trying.

The man had no mercy, however, and it was not long that the sweet, tormenting pressure that had been building up at last burst like sheer lightning, up and down her spine. She arched into him and cried out, half ecstasy and half astonishment. Still he kept moving, driving her further into a plane of bliss she had barely known of before now, until a few moments later he went absolutely still. There was a long, deep sigh against her neck, and then he collapsed heavily next to her. With one arm he pulled her close.

"You okay? I didn't hurt you?" he asked breathlessly, like he couldn't get enough air no matter how much he tried.

"And still you worry", she muttered fondly as she snuggled closer to him. "I've never been better."

He made a low sound at the back of his throat, and then for a while, no more words were spoken.

* * *

Afterwards, there did not seem to be any particular need or desire to leave the bed. It was warm and pleasant after he had pulled the blankets around them; getting up seemed like an unnecessary bother. Lothíriel was safely tucked in the crook of his arm and her soft fingers drew lazy little paths across his chest and abdomen. At times they spoke in soft voices, and others they just lay silent, basking in the tender moment. Outside, light grew dim and afternoon turned into an evening.

Éomer felt tremendously peaceful. The world with its demands was far away and so were the days of grief and regret. A deep sense of contentment was on him, body and soul. He could happily have spent the rest of the night right there, hadn't he started to feel hungry.

She heard his stomach rumble and she let out a gentle little laugh.

"Hungry, are you, now that you've ravished the lady?" she asked him and lifted herself enough to kiss his jaw.

"Absolutely. It's been a heavy day's work", he growled and tightened his hold around her. She let out a shriek of laughter when he turned around fully to pin her down once more and smother her face in kisses. When he looked down at her, he couldn't help but admire at the delightful colour on her cheeks and the bright sparkling of her eyes. He thought of telling her he loved her, but he was fairly sure she saw it in his eyes, anyway.

His stomach chose that moment to rumble again. He groaned and rolled back.

"Let's see if I've got any food. We may have to order something, though", she said and sat up, raking a hand through her hair.

"Ordering food means you're putting on clothes, and I do not approve of it in the slightest", he informed her, feigning severity. She shot him a smile over her shoulder.

"That does sound inconvenient", Lothíriel said, leaned down to kiss him quickly, and then she wandered off. It was somehow incredibly satisfying to see her pick up his t-shirt and pull it over her head. He got up as well and followed after her in a lazy saunter.

She only had a frozen pizza, canned tuna, some crackers and one apple as far as edibles went. However, he could easily rate their meal as the best one he had ever had. There was at least as much kissing as there was eating, and each time their eyes met, she smiled brightly at him. His heart grew so full with her, he felt like it could scarcely fit in his chest.

He carried her back to bed after the makeshift dinner. She responded eagerly to his affections, though some shyness still remained. It was quite endearing and he could not get enough of it. Thank Béma they still had an entire Sunday before the inevitable return to the everyday life.

Later - much later, if he was any judge - she was safely back against his side. A delicious heaviness had settled in his limbs and he was starting to consider the idea of sleeping rather seriously. It was then she made her question.

"I was thinking", Lothíriel spoke softly in the dark and her breath brushed against his neck. "You haven't really told me about your uncle or your cousin. I feel like I know so little of your family."

He was silent for a while, trying to decide what to say. On the one hand, it felt wrong to disturb this peace with such memories. On the other, she had given him so much today, how could he not answer?

"Our uncle was a cop, but you knew that already", he started to talk slowly, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. "He was kind of famous in his day. Solved a few high profile cases. He lived for his job after his wife Elfhild died, so you can imagine what Théodred's childhood must have been like. You don't expect a man like our uncle to be much of a homemaker. But then our dad died in the line of duty... he was in the army, you know. Mom couldn't take it. She got very sick and before the year ended, she too was put in a grave. I was eleven at the time, and Éowyn was just seven."

He let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes momentarily. Lothíriel's arm tightened around his torso.

"So Uncle took us in. And no matter how much he had loved being a cop, he loved us more. We were like his own kids. He was one of the best men I've ever known, Lothíriel. I was a horrible teenager but he never gave up on me even as I raged at the world. He got us great educations, made time for us... made us feel loved. And so did Théodred. He was not so much a cousin for me and my sister - he was our big brother. I know that I make them sound like these perfect people, but... it's hard to downplay it when they pretty much saved mine and Éowyn's lives", he continued to speak, although it was getting more difficult now. His throat felt tight and there was a prickly sensation in his eyes, which only grew the longer he talked.

He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, determined to carry on his tale. Next to him Lothíriel lay silent.

"My uncle was so proud when I graduated. I had always wanted to be a cop like him and Théodred... watching them do their job, I learned as much as I did from my teachers. It was a good time in our lives. But of course it wasn't going to last", Éomer said and fell silent for a moment. They were getting to the part he most hated and regretted.

"It was then my uncle was assigned the White Hand case. Even from start, the department knew it was going to be high profile. He didn't want to take it. He was getting older, more tired. But he was the best detective in the force and it would take no less to bring Saruman down. So he agreed, although we could tell he was worried about it", he went on, almost biting out the words at this point. He could feel her hand clutch his shoulder tightly.

"You know what happened next. My uncle gave Saruman a merry chase, but that old devil was always a few steps ahead. Mistakes were made and one of them cost Théodred's life. Uncle was... he didn't get over it. So he pursued the case even more relentlessly, no matter what was said about him in the papers. It was him who finally made the arrests, but I don't think it comforted any of us. The worst was yet to come", he finished, simply because he couldn't go on. She couldn't ask him more. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply, but it was difficult against the wave of bitter memories and old anger.

She held him tight and pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek.

"Your uncle sounds like he was a wonderful man. I wish I could have met him. And your cousin, too", she said softly. "I think they would be very proud of you. Just as I am."

He couldn't really answer anything to that, because his throat felt too tight. So he just wrapped both his arms around her and held her close, letting actions speak for themselves. For the longest moment, all he could do was just hold her and breathe in her scent.

"You know, I'm damn happy about going to that library when I did", he murmured against her soft, tousled hair.

"So am I", she replied and her voice teased gently the surface of his skin.

After that, they didn't speak anymore. Weariness had crept up on them both and so Éomer decided to let the sleep come. And sleep he did without a care, and no bitter memory disturbed him that night. Maybe it was because telling her about it had lessened the weight a little bit, even if it would never be fully gone.

Before, he'd have thought it a cliché, but maybe there was some truth to the idea that some burdens are easier to bear when they are shared.

* * *

The lazy Sunday morning was damn near perfect. Sleepy kisses and caresses that quickly became more heated, showering together, and then going out for breakfast in a café nearby. Happiness bubbled in the pit of Lothíriel's stomach, often making her feel like she wanted to laugh out loud. Over and over again her eyes were drawn to her boyfriend - her lover - and her heart swelled to see how glad and relaxed he looked. Éomer kept his arm around her, occasionally bending his head to kiss her brow or grasping her hand in his. Once they were in the café, his knee brushed hers under the table much too often to be an accident.

It was clear he was eager to eat and do the shopping as quickly as possible, and return to her flat. Not that she disagreed, but she had a feeling it was easier to talk serious business in a public place. That way, neither of them should be tempted to get naked, which was sure to lead to distractions.

"There was one more thing my father said to me the other day", she began cautiously when they had some breakfast before them. Éomer had already dug into his meal, obviously quite ravenous after last night's exertions and the pitiful excuse of a dinner they had scraped up from her cupboards.

"Oh, Béma", he grunted under his breath. "Should I be worried?"

"I guess it depends", she said with a sheepish little smile. She had been waiting for a good moment to talk about Father's invitation, knowing he would ask about it when she called him.

She cleared her throat and went on, "Father asked me to invite you for dinner some time soon."

Éomer looked at her with narrowed eyes, which made her feel rather doubtful about the chances of him saying yes.

"Did he now? Seems like a strange thing to suggest just after slandering me and my family", he noted grimly. Lothíriel tried not to pay heed to his choice of words. She knew now his sharpness was because of hurt, not of genuine hostility to her or her father.

"That whole thing was supposedly just him trying to find out how serious about you I am. Believe it or not", she said, keeping her voice amicable. "Either way, I don't think you should be concerned. He probably just wants to meet you. See for himself what kind of a man I'm dating."

Éomer grunted and stared down at his food for a bit. Then he lifted his eyes and searched her face.

"Do you think it would be a good idea? Is it... is it something that you want?" he asked her slowly.

"I do want to introduce you to my family sooner or later. Or, to my father, because I think everybody else has already met you... but I also want you to be comfortable with it. If you think it would be difficult for you after what he said to me, I understand", Lothíriel replied in a soft voice. While she was speaking, she reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Look, I don't need to be comfortable if you think meeting your dad would make him feel more... hmm, positive about this. I don't want him to go on thinking I'm some reckless madman who's going to ruin your life. So if it's a dinner he wants, fine", he replied steadily, seemingly mastering his initial dismay.

She couldn't help but smile.

"You're too good to me, do you know that?" Lothíriel asked him fondly.

Éomer smiled as well. He interlaced their fingers and raised their joined hands so that he could kiss hers.

"That, my dear", he uttered in a warm, dear voice, "is simply a ludicrous concept."

_To be continued. _

* * *

**A/N: **Here is a new chapter! I hope you liked it. :)

To tell you the truth, I did not originally plan to advance their relationship thusly in this one, or go into such detail. However, when I was drafting the first half of this chapter, it felt flat and uninteresting, and that is usually a sign to try a different angle. My decision turned out to be a good one, because I had much more fun writing once I chose to take the story this way. And in case you haven't figured it out yet, writing has to be fun for me if I mean to get anything done! And that, my dear readers, is the reason I'm probably never going to be a professional writer. ;)

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Your lovely comments give me life.

* * *

**xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - **Thank you! :)

**Rho67 - **Yes, they have to have some conflict to deal with in order to be a realistic couple! Still, though it may be difficult at times to bring the story (and characters) alive in this modern setting, it's also pretty fun!

I'm glad you're enjoying the story so well! :)

**EStrunk - **It was necessary indeed, both for the story and their relationship. But they are also fairly committed to this thing between them, so neither of them are willing to let things really get out of hand.

**Doria Nell - **Thank you! I thought it was an interesting idea as well. :)

I believe Lothíriel has this soundness and clarity that makes her very apt to deal with his temper and this particular brand of trauma that he still carries. No doubt she was shocked at first, but I think she feels instinctively that it's because of pain and regret, not because he's truly hostile against her or her father.

**Catspector - **Thank you! I am glad to hear you are liking the story! :)

**sai19 - **It so happens he's in a pretty amenable mood when she makes the invitation! ;) Still, that should be interesting once we get there.

How's this for sexual tension, though? :D

**Guest - **:)

**Doranwen - **Glad to hear it! :)

**Jo - **Thank you!

**blasttyrant - **I'm eager to get to writing it, too!

**Anon - **I hope this chapter is to your liking, in that case! I think they both take this relationship pretty seriously and don't want to bungle it up. And they are eager to know one another better, so talking comes to them fairly naturally.

**Cricklewood16 - **Thanks! :) I am happy you like the story and the modern setting, and I hope you will continue to enjoy it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6  
**

"Finally, there you are! What has got in you, brother mine? Usually you're more punctual", Éowyn gently scolded when Éomer stepped into her apartment, trying not to shake too much rainwater on her floors. It was raining cats and dogs outside, but his partner had given him a lift to his sister's place, so he had avoided the brunt of it.

"Sorry. We had to do overtime processing a shoplifter", he replied as he hang his jacket to dry off. He hid a satisfied smile. The teenager trying her hand in minor criminal activity had seemed sufficiently terrified, and he guessed her brush with law enforcement was enough to discourage her from further attempts.

"Good. I shall sleep more easily, knowing you are protecting us from the criminal masterminds of the area", Éowyn said lightly as she made her way to the kitchen to make them some coffee.

"I live to serve and protect", he commented dryly as he sauntered into the living room. Glancing around himself, "Where's Faramir hiding?"

He could hear his sister huffing in the kitchen.

"Still stuck in a meeting at the city hall. I'm starting to think they're holding him as a hostage", she commented while making unnecessary amount of noise with the kitchen utensils for one who is just trying to make some coffee. The woman was a menace in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Éomer took seat on the sofa and made himself comfortable. He noticed Éowyn had already packed away his makeshift bed, which made him smile a bit. Obviously she wasn't expecting him back anytime soon. He hadn't been sleeping on her couch for many nights now and why would he want to, when Lothíriel's door was always open for him?

Still, most of his things were here at Éowyn's apartment. He'd have to grab some stuff when he headed out again.

When coffee was done, his sister emerged from the kitchen with two mugs in her hands.

"So, how's work? Have you already brought down our town's crime rate?" she asked with a smile.

He was four days into his new job as a police officer. It already felt so right, like this was what he was supposed to do.

"It's fairly easy. Nothing very serious has happened so far. There was that shoplifter, and the other day I gave my first speeding ticket. Also, a drunk and disorderly puked all over me when we were taking him to the department", he replied, wrinkling his nose at that particular memory. Thankfully, an officer's uniform was pretty resistant to filth.

Éowyn chortled.

"Sounds delightful. Every cop on patrol should be puked on at least once. Builds character, like Théodred used to say", she noted. There was a brief silence, like there always was when one of them mentioned Théodred or Théoden. However, that silence was not as pregnant as it had once been. Maybe they were both in a better place now.

"I've felt it before, but now it seems even more clear. This town has changed since Saruman was persecuted... it's calmer and cleaner on the streets. So maybe justice does work in the end", he said in a soft voice and stared at the dark surface of his steaming hot coffee.

"Yeah. I wonder if that whole case changed everything. Uncle would be proud", Éowyn agreed, and they shared a bittersweet glance. The air was heavy with unsaid things and memories of years gone by. For a moment, he felt like there was something thick and heavy on his throat.

His sister seemed to shake herself and she directed him a keen stare.

"So, how does Lothíriel feel about it? Is she still worrying that you'll be done in by these drunks and shoplifters?" Éowyn asked. Her tone and choice of words were light enough, but he knew she was more serious than that.

"She's seen me getting home in one piece for a few times now, and I suppose that helps. But it'll take a little more time for her to make her peace with it. I get it, though. Her dad went and told her about our uncle and cousin, so I suppose she's been thinking about dead cops more than she should", Éomer explained slowly. It made sense that Lothíriel would be concerned. Even if things were different now, he was her first touch with the world of law enforcement.

Éowyn's grey eyes flashed with steel and ire.

"He told her? What business of his is it to spread gossip about our family?" she asked, and he could tell she was going to be as mad as he himself had been, unless he calmed her down.

"It's okay. We've already talked it over. Lothíriel thinks her father was just trying to see if she's serious about me. And whatever he said to her, it hasn't changed anything between me and her. To tell you the truth, it probably brought us closer together", he admitted. Saying it out loud, he felt like something warm began to throb in his chest.

His confession also distracted Éowyn from the previous issue. A coffee mug between her hands, she leant closer to him and regarded him with wide, curious eyes.

"Ooh! So, you and her really are a serious item now? I knew it! You and that girl have been so tight this last week, I was sure something's going on", she exclaimed and grinned. "I'm happy for you, brother."

"Yeah. It's pretty amazing", he agreed and couldn't help but grin. "I'll have to ask to keep some of my stuff here still, though. Lothíriel's place doesn't have a lot of space."

"Well, isn't that a reason to think of finding a bigger flat? You were looking for a place of your own, after all", Éowyn pointed out and winked.

"I don't know. I think it would be weird to suggest moving in together so soon", he said reluctantly. Not that he disliked the idea. He was already certain about what he felt for Lothíriel. However, it was true a part of him still feared that she'd start to have regrets. He needed to let her have an easy out of this, if she wanted it.

"Fine then. You're lucky that I like you, though. Otherwise, your stuff might mysteriously disappear while you were not looking", Éowyn said and huffed, though her eyes were twinkling.

"You're the one who insisted I stay with you, sister mine. You don't get to complain", he shot back and cast her a charming smile.

They talked some time more, about work and life and all such things small and great. When he told her about the dinner with Lothíriel's father, Éowyn helped him to pick a suitable outfit for the event. Normally, he didn't get so serious about clothes, but he felt like a a good first impression was in order. It really did worry him that Imrahil would deem him a human disaster and thus unworthy of her. Had it been just him and Imrahil, he wouldn't worry so much. It was for Lothíriel's sake that he wanted this to work out as well as possible.

His bag filled with new articles of clothing, Éomer took his leave of his sister and headed back to his girlfriend's flat. She had already given him her spare key, which made things a lot easier. He met her in the staircase, making her way from the laundry room in the basement carrying a seriously overloaded laundry basket in her arms.

Kissing her cheek, he gently tugged at the basket and said, "Let me carry that."

After short and half-hearted objections, she allowed him to take the basket and carry it back to the flat. He helped her to fold the laundry, which task was managed quickly with two pairs of hands – and it gave him a chance to ask about her day. She made quick chicken and vegetables stir-fry for dinner, after which he did the dishes while she pored over her books in preparation for an exam. Not wanting to disturb her while she studied, Éomer picked up a book from her shelf and made himself comfortable on her bed. When she joined him a couple hours later, seemingly just because she wanted to cuddle, he thought of how one's happiness comprised of fairly simple ingredients in the end.

* * *

"Ready?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

Lothíriel gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand. They were standing in the yard of her childhood home, and it was an intimidating sight to say the very least.

The blue three storey house itself had to be at least a hundred years old, if not more. It was a beautiful seaside villa, meticulously kept against weathers. Éomer's eyes could not catch a single detail out of order.

The yard was fairly big. Right to the house was a brick-laid garage which was obviously younger than the house, but it still had to be at least fifty years old. One couldn't see the sea from the yard, but it could surely be heard down the hill on which her home stood. A big garden surrounded the yard, the house and the garage and continued behind the main building. It was the sort of thing you saw in magazines but rarely in real life. Lothíriel was telling him that Father had taken up gardening in recent years and while he had professionals to aid him, he liked to participate in it as much as possible.

Hand in hand they made their way on a gravel path towards the house. There was a short flight of stairs to a spacious patio. It had comfortable-looking sofas with pillows, lanterns for late nights and a big rattan swing.

"Me and Amrothos used to roller-skate all over the patio when Father wasn't looking. Then my brother fell down the stairs and broke his arm. There wasn't much skating after that", Lothíriel said with a sheepish little laugh. If he had not felt so uneasy, he might have laughed too. Her story sounded just like the Amrothos he knew.

She opened the front door confidently and gestured him to follow. So they arrived in the entrance hall of her childhood home.

It was every bit as beautiful as it had been outside. The interior was just as well-kept, and the wall-papers and polished wooden floors looked to be original. Glancing about himself, he guessed he wouldn't find a single piece of mass-manufactured, particle board furniture, or any sort of tasteless knick-knacks meant to decorate modern homes. Even in the entrance hall, everything looked hardwood and antique. Yet at the same time, the impression he got from the hall was mild and tasteful. This was a family that wanted to surround itself with things made with skill and love, not fill its home with gaudy luxury.

He was helping Lothíriel out of her jacket when Imrahil arrived. He resembled his sons a great deal – or, his sons resembled him, Éomer thought to himself. He was just as tall as them and had the same body type. Looking at him, it was easy to picture what Elphir would look like at his age. Éomer also noted that the man had the same eyes as Lothíriel and the same smile.

"Welcome, both of you. I am glad you could make it", Imrahil greeted them. First he hugged and kissed his daughter, and then he offered his hand to the candidate son-in-law. With a pleasant smile, he went on to speak, "Pleased to meet you. I am Imrahil."

"Éomer. Pleased to meet you too", replied the younger man and clasped the host's hand in his own. There was an intense moment while they were locked in a stare, seemingly measuring the other and trying to decide what his mettle was. No idle pleasantries were exchanged, which felt appropriate to him. Éomer knew his uncle had thought Imrahil one of the few individuals with character and backbone in this town, but that had been years ago. Still, bright grey eyes gazing back at him were calm and unfazed by his scrutiny. People often found his gaze difficult to bear, said it was unnaturally piercing, but Imrahil had no such problem.

Lothíriel defused the moment. She reached to touch Éomer's forearm, and both men startled a little bit.

"Why don't I give you a tour of the house?" she suggested lightly.

"That sounds lovely", he agreed and shook himself a bit. With a smile, Imrahil shooed them off.

The rest of the house was kept with same care and sophisticated taste. Actually, it was surprisingly well-preserved, considering this was the place where Amrothos had grown up. Éomer liked how the house felt and smelt. The tang of sea-air was ever present, but underneath he could detect aged wood, the citrusy aroma of polish, and freshly cut flowers that were probably from the garden. Here and there on the walls were art pieces from different eras and styles, and she eagerly chatted about her favourite ones. Lothíriel showed him her old room, which had been kept as when she had moved out. On the shelf there were several mementos of her childhood, but near the window, where light was most abundant, were still a large number of her earliest artworks. She didn't try to hide them from him, but stood next to him and presented a few of her favourites in an old sketchbook.

One of them was the charcoal portrait of a woman he didn't know. But the longer he looked at it, the more familiar she looked. She was rather beautiful and in her eyes there seemed to be a knowing but gentle expression. Even with a coarse material like charcoal Lothíriel had managed to give the woman character and subtlety.

"This is the portrait of my mother. I drew it years ago. It's not really based on any of my own memories. I was just looking at her pictures and tried to combine what I saw in them", she explained in a soft voice.

"It's wonderful", he said quietly, wondering to himself if a portrait like this paid greater respect to its subject matter than a thousand photographs could.

"I never came around showing it to my dad, though. I think... it might be painful for him to look at it", she mused half to herself, and Éomer wrapped one of his arms around her. He knew what it was to miss a loved one, but he couldn't imagine what it felt like to miss someone you could hardly remember... whose absence had left such a hole in your life.

"You are gifted. Did you ever think of pursuing a career in art?" he asked her, and she seemed to shake herself a bit.

"Not really. The sea was always my thing. And if it's difficult to make a successful career in academia, it's even more so in art", Lothíriel replied and put the portrait back between the sketchbook.

She looked up at him with a renewed smile, and whatever bittersweet thoughts the picture of her mother had brought her seemed to be gone.

"I would like to draw or paint you some time. Your face has a story to tell", she said and tenderly patted his cheek as if to emphasise her point.

He turned to face her fully.

"This old face? I'm sure there are more interesting things", he said in a low voice.

"You can't say that to an artist. You happen to interest me a great deal", she replied and gave him one of those looks, the kind that made something fierce and greedy shift in the pit of his stomach. As if knowing just what he was thinking, she added, "Don't worry. I'll make it worth your while..."

There are appropriate things to say when a person's new boyfriend is meeting an exacting father-in-law for the first time, and this was not among them. Éomer growled out loud and spent a long, difficult moment reminding himself of the situation and the fact that Imrahil was downstairs waiting for them.

"I don't mind you dropping hints, but can you please not do it while we're visiting your dad?" he growled and fought an intense urge of pressing her against the wall.

She met his eyes boldly.

"If you want me to shut up, then stop giving me looks like that!" she replied, and her tone was just as accusing.

"Fine. I'll wear a blindfold, then", he shot back, and the banter helped a little bit to lessen the tension.

"Well, if that's the impression you want to make on my dad, be my guest", she replied lightly and pulled at his hand to continue the tour.

They passed by her father's study and her mother's old studio. Both were given only a quick peek from the doorway – the former probably for the sake of Imrahil's privacy, and the latter likely because it was a space no one could enter without a heavy heart. She pointed out bedrooms belonging to various family members and also the guest bedrooms. Éomer noted Imrahil could easily house quite a large gathering of people if he so wanted.

While most of the house had been preserved in its original guise, the kitchen, bathrooms and laundry room were modern. Still, even his amateurish eye could tell that whoever had been in charge of renovation had taken great care to maintain the mood of the house even in new designs. Finally, Lothíriel lead him to the living room, where Imrahil waited for them. Large windows gave a rather lovely view to the backyard garden and the bay below. Before them were various indoor plants Éomer didn't recognise. There were a couple of matching antique sofas and armchairs, and more art on the walls. Massive bookcases covered all the available space near the walls. Altogether it was a house where culture and education were appreciated.

From the start, he had sensed this grace and sophistication about Lothíriel. Seeing the environment where she had grown up, he could very well understand where that air came from.

"There you are. Is your tour all done?" Imrahil asked with a smile and gestured them to sit down. Lothíriel confidently took seat on the sofa and Éomer followed suit. It felt a bit like sitting on something in a museum and for half a second, he had a feeling that some kind of an assistant was going to appear and shoo him off.

"Yes, it is. There's still the garden, of course, but it's much nicer in spring or summer. And I can't talk about it like you can", she said lightly. She was so at ease, it helped him to relax a little bit as well. Quietly he reached for her hand and as if without realising it herself, she interlaced their fingers.

"It is a beautiful house. I don't think I've ever visited its like", Éomer added politely. "Has it always been in the family?"

"Indeed it has. My great-grandfather first began to build it. He owned much of the land in these parts, but this particular plot was always the most precious to his heart. And so it has been to his children and children's children. My own sons and daughter have moved out, but to tell you the truth, I cannot think of living anywhere else", Imrahil replied warmly. He rather sounded like the house was not just a building in his eyes – it was almost as if another family member. What did it feel like to be so attached to a place? Éomer could only wonder.

He had never belonged anywhere. It was a thought with all the potential to depress him, but then a small, warm hand picked that moment to squeeze his own. He decided maybe it was okay. His home did not have to be a place when it could be a person.

It was then Erchirion entered the room, carrying drinks on a tray. Éomer masked his surprise. He had thought they were dining with Imrahil alone, as Lothíriel hadn't mentioned any of her brothers. Perhaps Erchirion was here as a buffer against awkward situations, or so he guessed.

"Dinner will be ready soon, but here's drinks while you wait", Lothíriel's brother said in light tones. He nodded his head at the pair on the sofa, "Hello, sis. Éomer."

"You're cooking? Dad, I didn't think you would be taking out the big guns right away", she said as Erchirion handed glasses to them. To Éomer's quizzical look she replied, "In case you don't know, Erchirion's skills in the kitchen are positively occult. You'll see."

"I don't know where he gets it. Neither I or his mother were never great cooks", Imrahil commented as he too was given a drink.

Erchirion vanished again, probably to perform his magic in the kitchen, and Imrahil leant forward in his chair. While his eyes retained a friendly look, his expression made Éomer think of a man preparing for difficult negotiations.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself? Lothíriel says you have started a job as a police officer", Imrahil said and regarded him keenly.

"That is correct", Éomer replied evenly. "It was always the plan, but I suppose I got a bit side-tracked for a while."

"You mean your time with the Blue Berets. My daughter also mentioned it. I can't even imagine what kind of an experience it must have been", Imrahil said, nodding his head in solemn acknowledgement.

"It was... something else", replied Éomer, perhaps little bit reluctantly. It was still not a topic he talked about freely, and at any rate, war stories were probably not the best issue for conversation when one met their father-in-law for the first time. He cleared his throat and continued, "But for what it's worth, it's made some things very clear to me. I know where I'm going now. And this one here has given it meaning in ways I did not comprehend before."

He directed his eyes at Lothíriel again. She blushed and looked down, but he could tell she was pleased.

"I am glad to hear it. Some men walk back from such circumstances broken and angry, but I gather you are a different story", Imrahil noted. He fell quiet for a moment before going on, "Still, I understand your return to your home country is quite recent. You do not think that will reflect badly on new relationships?" Imrahil asked now, and his grey eyes burned ever keener.

Next to himself, Éomer felt Lothíriel shifting anxiously. He didn't look at her, but he could well imagine what was going through her mind. Perhaps she felt again the need to defend him to her father. He pressed her hand gently to let her know that it was not necessary. It might not be good, either, because he did not think her father was ever going to accept him or respect him if he did not hold his own ground. Moreover, he knew he couldn't get angry now, no matter how intrusive Imrahil's questions were. He would have to keep his temper in check.

"One may think so, but I have put it behind me. Right now, I have only one direction and it is forward. That should be a decent starting point for any new acquaintance", he replied and sat back, relaxing as much as he could. He had a feeling that if he conveyed composure and confidence, he had better chances of passing this survey.

"So you believe it's something one can decide", Imrahil said, tilting his head a little bit. His doubt could not be made more clear.

"I choose to believe so. And in any case, there are a thousand things about any person's life that could reflect badly on their relationships. The time I served with the Blue Berets is simply a rarer circumstance than some other things may be. At the very least, I like to think it has taught me a thing or two about what is important", Éomer stated calmly. Having said those words, he couldn't help but turn his head again and steal a glance of Lothíriel's face. She appeared uneasy to be listening to this exchange, both knowing it must take place without her intervention and yet wanting to say her own piece.

Imrahil seemed to be looking between them, his forehead slightly creased in thought. Éomer could only imagine what he read on his and Lothíriel's faces then. He hoped his would convey his affection and sincerest wish for her happiness.

"I suppose that is quite right. I do appreciate such a responsible attitude as yours seems to be. Perhaps one should expect it in a person involved in law enforcement", Imrahil said at length, and his words made Éomer feel that he was leaning more and more towards approval.

"It is surely a good thing to have in this profession, though not all cops have it in equal degree. But I admit it's not always an easy path to walk. You do the best you can, but in the end we're all human", he said, a bit more at ease at this point. All this was more eloquent than he would normally behave or speak, but there was every reason to make the effort.

There was a faint smile on Imrahil's features. Éomer hoped it meant he had said the right things and put to rest whatever doubts her father may have had. At least this conversation had not turned into a debate or an argument. It would surely have disappointed Lothíriel.

Imrahil made a few more questions about having a career in the force and of his family's history in the area. He steered clear of the sad fates of certain relatives, although a comment here and there alluding to Uncle Théoden or Éomer's own father made it clear it was all known to Imrahil. Those comments were perfectly respectful, though: Imrahil stated what an excellent detective Théoden had been, and said he could well recall Éomund's famed courage.

The conversation was brought to a pause when Erchirion appeared again to invite them to the table. It was laid with fine porcelain and silver – quite different to the mismatched pieces one would find in Lothíriel's cupboards. Éomer felt like a man who has accidentally wandered into the setting of a very fancy dinner party. A quick glance at her reassured him, thankfully.

Food was as great as Lothíriel and Imrahil had implied. First course consisted of salmon with green asparagus. Then he brought out sea bass with ratatouille, and finally the dinner was crowned by coffee and chocolate cake. Conversation remained polite and pleasant through the meal, and while Imrahil would make the occasional personal question, it was always tactful. Recent events and politics were discussed as well, and though they might disagree on some finer points, it never became a proper debate. The atmosphere remained relaxed, at least partly thanks to Erchirion, whose wit and humour were more easy than normally. Lothíriel did her own part. Her face was bright and happy, her voice was light when she spoke, and she often cast a beaming smile at Éomer. It was clear how much it meant to her that her father and boyfriend were getting along.

As for the head of the family, Éomer thought he very much lived to his reputation. His dignity and authority were natural, not forced. His intellect was clear in his choice of words and the way he presented himself. He was more reserved than any of his children, though perhaps with the exclusion of Elphir, but like them he had a way of getting along with people. The shrewd look in his eyes implied this here was a man you did not want as your enemy, and yet his expression melted to infinite softness when he looked at his children and especially at his daughter.

And that was it, as Éomer realised then. No matter what their differences were, be it in convictions or past experiences or ways of life, they both loved this girl to bits.

* * *

After the dinner, Lothíriel took her leave of her father and boyfriend with the excuse of helping out with the dishes. Seeing they had been getting along fairly well, she decided she could risk letting them be alone without supervision for a bit. With Erchirion, she had cleared the dinner table and carried the dishes to the kitchen.

She had been surprised first when he had made appearance. However, she realised quickly enough why Father had asked him to join them. Erchirion was known to Éomer and his presence would make the guest feel more at ease, which was what had happened. Out of her brothers, he was the best choice. If invited, Elphir would insist on bringing his own family along, and in the noise of his two small children the entire purpose of this dinner would be made null. Amrothos was out of the question for obvious reasons. However, Erchirion's discretion and sensibility could always be trusted.

"So, what do you think? Does Éomer pass the scrutiny?" Lothíriel asked as she was loading the dishwasher and her brother was cleaning the various pots and pans he had used to prepare the meal.

"Yeah, he does. I think even Father is suitably satisfied", Erchirion replied, eyes fixed in a pot he was currently washing. "Éomer is a decent guy and it's clear he cares about you very much. What more can you ask for?"

Lothíriel beamed for a little bit. Her boyfriend was certainly not one to hide his feelings, but it was somehow very pleasing to know that others could see what she saw.

"Is it weird for you that I'm dating him?" she asked her brother. He cast her a wry look.

"Of course it's weird. But as long as it makes you happy and he treats you well, it's none of my business", he replied evenly.

His answer was consoling. She gave him a smile as she pushed the dishwasher shut and chose a washing program. Soon enough the machine began the slow hum as the program started.

"He's great, Erchirion. You'd think that a guy who has gone through so much would not be so gentle and loving, but he is. And I know nothing is going to replace his family, but I really want mine to welcome him", she told him. Her heart almost ached for how much love she felt, both for her boyfriend and for her brother.

Erchirion gave her a long, thoughtful look. Then he let out a deep sigh.

"You're a sweet girl, sister. I hope he knows what he's got", he said seriously and reached to give her a one-armed hug.

While Lothíriel was eager to let her father and Éomer talk alone for a bit, she also did not want to leave them to it for too long. Who knew what they would come up without her to watch over them? So she made her way back to the living room, unsure of what kind of a situation she would find.

The two men were deep in conversation and the mood on them was calm. What surprised her was not this peaceful atmosphere, but rather their topic: they were talking about motorcycles. It was about the last thing she would have expected to hear them discussing, but she supposed it was an encouraging sign. She flashed them a big smile before she took seat next to Éomer again. Tonight had been so successful and Father so agreeable, and so she dared to lean a bit more against her boyfriend. He was solid and warm and his arm readily opened for her. With a contented sigh, she rested her head against his shoulder.

It was getting late and she felt so comfortable against her boyfriend, it wasn't long before Lothíriel's eyelids began to droop and her head pressed more and more heavily on his shoulder. Then he shifted, which startled her from the sleepy reverie.

"... yeah. I think that's our cue. We should get going before this one passes out", Éomer said and gave her shoulder a gentle shake. Lothíriel grumbled a little bit, even though she didn't necessarily disagree. It was just the act of leaving the nice, warm spot that dissatisfied her.

"Let me call you a taxi", Father began to fuss, and he wouldn't hear any objections.

He and Erchirion came to see them off. Her brother and Éomer made plans to meet for some beer and pool, and Father was asking when she would be available for lunch. For the rest of the time they waited for the taxi, they spoke mild pleasantries, such as how wonderful the evening had been, and that they must soon do it again with the rest of the family.

Headlights flashed outside: their taxi had arrived. After one final hug to her father, Lothíriel followed Éomer out.

The driver had already turned the car around and her childhood home was left behind when she reached for her boyfriend's hand in the dim backseat of the taxi.

"You don't have to tell me what you talked about with my dad", she said softly as she interlaced their fingers, "Just... was he okay? He didn't say anything rude or judgemental about your family?"

"He was fine. We had a talk and... and I think he approves. At least on the condition I treat you well", he replied slowly, gently cradling her fingers with his own. His answer made her relax, even if she had already been fairly sure that things had gone well between them even without her and Erchirion to moderate the situation.

"Hmm. I don't think that's going to be a problem", she muttered and leant her head on his shoulder. In the warm, dim exterior of the car, sitting next to her boyfriend, she quickly began to feel sleepy again.

"Don't fall asleep, love. Or do you mean I'll have to carry you to bed?" he murmured in a deep, soft voice that almost vanished under the purr of the car's engine.

"I would like that very much", she replied and snuggled a little bit closer to him.

Éomer grumbled faintly.

"Hmph. Very well, you lazy girl."

She smiled a little bit as she closed her eyes.

"Case in point", she whispered, and knew he understood her meaning.

_To be continued. _

* * *

**A/N: **Here is a new chapter! I hope you all liked it. :)

It's fun to write Éowyn in this one, but I also liked how the meeting with Imrahil turned out. So far it seems fairly good for Éomer as far as Lothíriel's family goes!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

**sai19 - **I am glad you liked the chapter! And I do hope you enjoyed the interaction with Imrahil!

**EStrunk - **To tell you the truth, I'm surprised this story has even got this long, so you may understand if it's not very conflict-heavy or troublesome for the couple.

**Jo - **Thank you! :)

**Doranwen - **Glad you liked it! :) I think it brings some interesting flavour to Éomer's backstory in this fic.

**xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - **Thank you!

**Catspector - **Indeed there are! But I think they both are already very committed to this relationship and like you say, they want to make it work.

**Rho67 - **Thanks! I am happy to hear you think so. I never want to go too much into detail, so it's good to know their intimate moment remained tasteful! Also, the last thing he wants is to be irresponsible with her.

**Doria Nell - **Yes, I think they already were at the point where taking a next step makes sense. I don't necessarily believe in the concept of true love, but I do think some couples just click very quickly and for them it's natural to move forward in a way that would seem or feel too hurried for some others.

I hope you liked the dinner with Imrahil!

**AmandaBaker852 - **I do hope you enjoyed the bits with him!

**Anon - **Glad to hear it! As I said previously, I think this pace is most natural for them in particular. On the other hand, this story is alraedy longer than I first intended, and I don't want to delay certain things too much.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It was getting late when Lothíriel got home. With a weary groan, she battled with her winter boots in the tiny entry of her flat, momentarily stumbling against the wall before she was finally freed from her shoes. As there was only one thought in her mind at the moment, she let her messenger bag fall where it may, and then she headed straight to the bedroom to change into a big, warm sweater and soft pajama bottoms. Long, thick socks felt like the highest luxury in the world after being up on her feet for the most of the day.

The flat was quiet and dim. Éomer had an evening shift and he wouldn't be home in a couple hours still. It was one of the things she did not love about his job: regular evening and night shifts meant less time spent with him. Not to mention, after three months of dating, she had grown to dislike the lonely nights when he was not with her. She tried not to complain, though, as she knew how much his job meant to him. To herself, she hoped it would become slightly more regular once he was made detective for the force.

Too tired after a day of lab work and a busy shift at the restaurant, she scraped together some leftover rice and tofu from the refrigerator and then plopped herself down on the love-seat. She felt a little bit moody and lonely, which probably indicated her period was on its way.

Lothíriel looked around in the living room. It looked more cluttered than before, but that was no wonder. Two people were now living here, and even though Éomer had sold or given most of his things to charity before he had gone overseas, small everyday objects still took a surprising amount of space. Biting her lip, she wondered whether it was still too soon to find a bigger flat to move in with him. Things were going pretty well and they already did effectively live together, so would it be too much of a change? She would have to think about how to introduce the idea to him. Truth be told, she really didn't want to freak him out by asking too much too soon. While he had told her he loved her and she believed it to be true, she still wanted to give him some space. After all, he had been back in the country only for a few months and it was entirely possible that he still had unresolved issues, buried deep down.

Thinking of those issues, hypothetical or real, made her feel troubled. So, once she had eaten, she decided to call Arwen. Her friend was perhaps the most empathetic and understanding person in the whole world, and her ability to make one feel better bordered on occult.

Talking to Arwen did cheer her up a little bit, as did the advice she was given: to take a hot shower, crawl into bed with a good book, and not worry over things she couldn't control. She decided to do just that. With the help of Alexandre Dumas and his musketeers, she was able to get her mind off of troubled ideas – and not mope so much while she waited for her boyfriend to come home.

She heard him at the door about an hour later, first rattling the key in the lock and then heavily stepping inside. He was swearing under his breath and her concern rose anew. Lothíriel put aside her book and went to meet him in the entry.

Éomer was busy hanging his coat and kicking off his boots. He looked tired and ill-tempered, but he still managed to conjure a smile when he saw her. When she wrapped her arms around him, she felt how tensely and heavily he leant into the touch.

"Bad day?" she asked softly.

"Yeah. Kind of", he muttered into her hair and stood still. After a while, she began to wonder how long he was going to keep them standing in this same spot.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she inquired. She kept her tone as gentle and careful as she could, because she didn't want him to feel pressured.

"Not really. At least, not tonight", he replied at length and let out a heavy sigh.

"All right", she replied and tiptoed to kiss him. With it, some of his tension seemed to vanish.

Lothíriel offered him a smile to let him know she wasn't upset about his not wanting to talk. She asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Not particularly. I just want to get some sleep", he replied and cast a look at the bedroom door. He looked so tired, she didn't have the heart to ask him to stay up for a little bit.

Still, she did follow him to the bedroom once he was done washing, and watched as he practically shrugged off his clothes and fell into the bed. Lothíriel really wanted to ask about his day, or just spend a moment or two together; she had only seen him briefly this morning before she had left for her classes. However, the poor darling could barely keep his eyes open after his head hit the pillow. So she just lay down next to him and ran her hand in a gentle caress up and down his arm. It took him no more than ten minutes to fall asleep. His features softened at last, and for a while, all she could do was just watch him and wonder about what had weighed on him so much tonight.

Seeing she was not yet sleepy, Lothíriel picked up her book again and tiptoed back to the living room. There she curled up on the love-seat to read one or two chapters more before joining her sleeping boyfriend in the bed.

Normally when she got to bed after him, he would crack open one eye, wrap his arm around her, and go back to sleep. But now, when she finally crawled next to him, he did not stir in the slightest. She felt a little bit disappointed at first, but then told herself she was being ridiculous. She settled down, focused on the slow, even sound of his breathing, and waited for sleep to come.

Lothíriel was not certain of which woke her, his voice or restless shifting next to her. She blinked her eyes blearily at first, trying to understand what was going on. Then she saw he was still fast asleep and most likely having a nightmare, judging by the anxiety of his movements and the unusual distress in his quietly mumbling voice.

She lifted herself on her elbow and reached for his shoulder. She gave him a gentle but determined shake, hoping to snap him out of the dream.

"Wake up, love", she was telling him, concealing her own worry the best she could.

His eyes snapped open and even in the dim bedroom, she could see the look in them. For the briefest moment, she felt like she was staring at a stranger, for the wild ferocity of his gaze was something she had not witnessed ever before now. In that very moment, his fingers closed tightly around her wrist. She was too surprised to react in any way, but Éomer was quick to come back to his senses.

He pulled back his hand as though her skin had burned his fingers. Then he moved away in an abrupt movement, nearly falling off of the bed in the process, until he finally stopped at the edge of it.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she sat up and reached her hand for his forearm.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked back, as if he had not even heard her.

"I'm fine. Just surprised", she reassured him and moved to sit closer. Searching his face anxiously, she asked, "What's the matter?"

He was not looking at her, but even from his profile, she could see he was grimacing.

"I dreamt of when Théodred died", he replied in a low, reluctant voice. "It felt so real. Like it was happening all over again..."

Lothíriel wrapped her arms loosely around his midsection.

"That's terrible", she murmured softly as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. "Why do you think you're having that dream now? Did something happen today?"

Éomer let out a heavy sigh before saying anything.

"That's easy to answer. Today at work, we were securing a site of arson downtown. There was this reporter... I know him from when the White Hand case was in court. He's the one who came up with the nastiest headlines. He recognised me as well. No wonder – I had a couple of run-ins with him back at the time. He tried to get some kind of a reaction out of me as soon as he realised who I was. I could have lost my job today, hadn't my partner been there", he replied, talking in a slow and heavy voice. She thought she could hear some slow, burning anger in it and did not wonder about it.

"I'm sorry to hear it. That guy sounds like a real jerk. You'd think there are better things for a reporter to do than bother somebody who is just trying to keep others safe", she said and tightened her hold of him a little bit. She hated that she didn't know how to make him feel better about it. What could she even say to him without sounding tepid?

He made a low, coarse sound in agreement.

For a while, they sat there in silence. Little by little, she could feel him growing less tense. Eventually she raised herself to kiss his cheek.

"Why don't we try to get some sleep? Things will seem different in daylight", she offered gently.

"Yeah", he agreed quietly. So they settled down again and she wrapped her arm about him and put her head on his shoulder. However, he lay so still that he surely was not falling asleep as quickly as before. She passed out soon enough, never knowing how long it took him to do the same – or if he slept at all for the rest of the night.

* * *

Over the course of next few weeks, there was a sense of tension between her and Éomer. It almost felt like he was avoiding coming home with her, what with the way he spent even more of his time either at work or boxing practice. When he was around, he was more quiet and withdrawn than normally. Lothíriel did not like the way this felt. Things had been going so well and the their level of openness and intimacy with one another had made her feel so secure about him and the life she wanted to build together.

However, she needed to let him have some space. Fussing all over him would not be helpful and in any case, what could she do to make this better? His encounter with the reporter had stirred such painful memories as she could only imagine. Her best option at the moment was to just be there for him in the quiet, everyday sort of way. Unfortunately, even that did not always seem to be enough.

Until now, he had never acted particularly short-tempered with her, except for one very understandable occasion. As this changed, so grew her concern, because it did not seem like Éomer to be snappy about having too much salt in his food, or her making noise in the living room at night. She tried to bear it the best she could, telling herself that not only his job was stressful, it was probably a constant reminder of how his uncle and cousin had died. It was inevitable first few months of it would be difficult.

Then one day a further development came. It was a chilly morning as Lothíriel was making her way through campus. She was thinking of grabbing a coffee at the university's café before heading to a lecture when on her right-hand side, an unfamiliar man stepped forward and lifted his hand in greeting.

"Excuse me, miss. Are you quite busy?" he asked pleasantly. He was middle-aged or maybe a bit younger, with sand-coloured hair neatly combed behind his ears, and pale blue eyes that unsettled her with their studious look. His attire did not give hints as to what his profession was, but she would not be left wondering for very long.

"Can I help you?" she asked him warily.

"Hopefully, you can", he said and gave her a smile that was probably supposed to be charming, but she felt it was not entirely sincere. He offered his hand and said, "Bill Ferny, from The Evening Mail. Do you have a minute?"

"Depends on what business you have with me", Lothíriel replied and shook his hand. Her suspicion was now growing. Was this _that_ man? At least, she could not think of why a reporter for the area's most notorious evening newspaper would have interest in a student of marine biology, unless he wanted to get at Éomer through her.

Mr Ferny was still smiling.

"I was hoping to ask you a few questions. I am gathering material about a young police officer of the name of Éomer Éomundson and it has come to my attention that you are a person of particular interest when it comes to him", he explained, and his tone was perfectly mild and charming, as if he was not prying into somebody's private life.

She narrowed her eyes and began to walk again, but he kept pace with her.

"I'm not sure why you would think I want to talk about personal matters with a reporter, or where did you even learn that I'm a person of interest when it comes to Officer Éomundson", she answered stiffly. It felt odd to speak so formally of her boyfriend, but she felt it was in order when talking to this odious man.

"Miss, a reporter's job is to know and find out things. Not to mention, surely you must realise that as a member of one of the most prominent families in town, your actions are noticed", he pointed out gently, as though to a slow-witted child.

Lothíriel bristled. She wanted to say something very rude, but she held her tongue. She wouldn't be doing Éomer any favours by antagonising this reporter.

"Be that as it may, I do not see how I could help you. Why does your paper want to run a piece on a police officer? Have you run out of celebrities?" she said and walked a bit faster, but he still kept up.

"Oh, this fellow is not as anonymous as you would think. It may seem ancient history to you, miss, but Éomundson's family is well known in this town", Mr Ferny replied. She thought there was something nasty about his smile and she couldn't help but imagine that he was thinking of all the ways he had made Éomer's life even worse than it had already been thanks to the White Hand case.

"Well, I don't mean to teach you how to do your job, but I imagine in your line of work, one should be reporting actual news, not ancient history", she announced as sweetly as she could. With a parting smile she added, "So the answer is no: I will not give you an interview. Good day, Mr Ferny."

Thankfully, she had now reached the doors of her own department building. She hastened inside and was prepared to try and lose him in the maze-like corridors, but the reporter did not follow her inside.

She let out a deep breath when she realised he was not pursuing her anymore. That encounter had been something unpleasant and for whatever reason, she felt dirty because of it. How could Mr Ferny possibly think that she'd go behind Éomer's back in such a way? Their acquaintance was already a painful memory for him, and to have an article written about himself by that very man, now that he was working so hard to put his life back together…

That thought made her stop rummaging through her messenger bag. She had been trying to find her phone so that she could text Éomer and tell him what had happened. But the more she thought of it, the more unsure she felt. It might not be a good idea to mention Mr Ferny to him. He had enough on his plate already. He shouldn't have to worry about some leech of a reporter who only seemed interested in making some money over scandals.

She would tell him about it some other time, when things were easier again and his frame of mind less grim. With that, she let the phone fall back where it was, and she continued her way to the lecture hall. Coffee could wait; she wasn't going to risk running into Mr Ferny again so soon.

* * *

Of course, she should have known that would not be the end of it. She had probably been naive, thinking she could keep the matter from Éomer, or that she was the only person Mr Ferny would harass in his dubious quest of harrying his old adversary.

The very next day, her boyfriend came home with particular racket. He always got louder and more careless when something was bothering him. She lifted her eyes from her exam book and bit her lip. Apparently, this day had not brought any sudden change to his continuing ill mood.

"You won't believe what Éowyn told me today", he announced almost as soon as he had entered and greeted her.

"What did she tell you?" Lothíriel said and smiled at him nonetheless. No matter how difficult things had been as of late, she was always glad to see him.

"That nosy bastard Ferny had approached her when she was getting off work. He had asked her to give an interview about me!" he scoffed in contempt, but his dark eyes glimmered bright and fierce in suppressed anger.

"What did she say to him?" Lothíriel asked in a quiet voice and lowered her eyes on the cover of her book.

"She told him to fuck off. Éowyn never lets you down", Éomer replied and let out a low, grim chuckle.

"Good for her", she said, hating how strangled her voice came out. It was already clear that trouble was coming, and that her initial decision to keep her encounter with Mr Ferny from Éomer was going to seriously backfire.

"What's wrong?" he asked as if on cue. A craven part of her seriously wanted to try and hide it still, perhaps distract him with something else, but she knew lying about this would only make things worse.

"He... this man Ferny... he approached me, too", she admitted in a small voice.

Éomer's eyes narrowed.

"He did? Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. His voice was low and deceptively calm.

"I just... I thought it would distress you. And you were so upset the night you came home and said you had seen him... I guess I thought I was protecting you", Lothíriel answered and felt wretched.

He let out a harsh laugh.

"Protecting me? From him?" he said loudly and seemed to stand very straight and tall. "I never asked you to protect me. I only asked you to be honest."

The words stung more than she could have guessed. Lothíriel winced and put aside her book, knowing she would have to fight this battle for better or for worse.

She was not an argumentative person. She disliked conflict, especially with those dear to her. With him it was somehow even worse, because his anger was raw and stubborn and painful. At the same time, she could not be equally offended by his gross overreaction. Knowing what Bill Ferny stood for in his mind, and being so keenly aware that his anger came from some deep, unhealed wounds, Lothíriel simply could not let anger cloud her own thoughts.

However, strange as it was, her attempts to explain and to calm him down only fuelled his fury. Only later would she understand the reason why that was, but for the moment, she grew more and more anxious, and soon enough her eyes were burning with tears. Over and over again the argument resumed to the point where he demanded why she hadn't been honest from the first. In this harrowing loop, she was starting to lose her own capacity for rational thought as one question consumed her mind: why couldn't he believe that she was on his side?

At last the brunt of his fury was spent, but it didn't mean things were all right. With a final angry growl he turned around, grabbed his coat, and stormed out.

That he did not come home that night did not surprise her, but it did not prevent her from sobbing like a child until she finally fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

* * *

Tonight, Father's house was the perfect material for some kind of a postcard. The air had a clear quality to it, which served as a wonderful atmosphere for the outdoor lights that began with the driveway and surrounded the building itself, basking it in a soft glow. It was a rare occasion that the building was lit in full regalia, but it was quite fitting for Éowyn and Faramir's engagement party. Father had insisted on hosting the event, because since Denethor had died, he had adopted many parental duties when it came to Faramir.

Lothíriel kept her eyes on the house. It was somehow a comforting sight, like a promise of safety and calm. On the other hand, it was going to be difficult to pretend that everything was all right. If they made it through tonight without making a scene, she would be relieved.

Next to her, Éomer was walking in silence. He was an arm's reach away, and yet she felt like there was an ever widening gap between them. It made her heart ache like an open wound. After their fight, he had eventually returned and said he was sorry, but both of them knew things were not back to normal. A sense of unease and dread hang in the air every time they were in the same room, and she had no idea of how to try and make it better. Lothíriel did not know what more she could do, and she feared that sooner or later, this very fact would break her heart.

They climbed up the stairs that lead to the front door and he opened it for her. Something warm briefly shifted in her breast, though he didn't meet her eyes.

Éowyn and Faramir appeared to greet them almost as soon as they had left their coats in the entrance hall, where Father had somehow provided additional hallstands for guests. The happy couple were positively glowing as they welcomed Lothíriel and Éomer, but even so, she had a feeling both noticed that something was amiss. Few things escaped the attention of these two.

She gave them a smile, made some small talk, and then excused herself with the premise of looking for her father. However, she was soon enough caught by the ever boisterous Amrothos, who did not seem to notice anything off about her mood. He was babbling to her about his latest business idea, but she had hard time keeping up, and at the end of it couldn't really say what her brother was planning exactly.

Lothíriel socialised with few other guests for a bit, but it was not long before she began to feel the strain of keeping up a happy face when she didn't feel particularly glad. Glancing around in the living room, she didn't see Éomer anywhere. Pretension was even more difficult for him than it was for her, so she could only imagine how he was managing.

Feeling like she seriously needed a break from the crowd, she slipped quietly outside to get some air

It was cool and fresh at the patio. The sun had already set, but there were lanterns spreading warm light around. She lifted up her face and breathed in deeply, enjoying this moment of calm. Listening to the waves down the hill and letting the salty air fill her lungs, the real world with its problems seemed so far away.

"Lothíriel?" spoke a soft, gentle voice. The question was by no means made in a startling manner, but she still jumped a little.

Turning around, she saw Arwen standing there. Her friend's features bore a look of concern, but it turned into a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you", she apologised and stepped closer.

"It's fine. I was just lost in thought", Lothíriel said, waving her hand to dismiss the issue.

Arwen came to stand next to her. The smile died on her fair face, and that same worry returned.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but... is everything all right? I was thinking of how unhappy you looked the moment you arrived", she said quietly.

Lothíriel stared down into the shadowy garden. Of course it was a fool's errand to try and hide things from Arwen, who saw through all pretensions. And truth was, she did want to tell somebody about it all. It was difficult to keep it inside, like a slowly festering wound.

"Couple of days ago we had this big fight, Éomer and I", she whispered at length and pressed her fingers against the railing of the patio. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground when she went on, "It's been tense ever since."

After swallowing hard against the lump that had somehow appeared in her throat, she quickly described the events leading to the current situation. Arwen listened in silence and pressed a consoling hand against her shoulder.

When she had finished, Lothíriel closed her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath before continuing to talk.

"You know, before we decided to get serious, he... he warned me that he might not be ready for it. Now I'm so scared to think maybe he was right and we rushed into this too soon. And yet on the other hand, I care about him so much, and... and it kills me to think we might break up over something so small", she finally finished her outpour.

Now that she had spilled out everything, that lump became ever more difficult to ignore. Tears were starting to burn her eyes and she buried her face in her hands. At the same time, a pair of arms wrapped around her and she could smell Arwen's perfume like a sheltering blanket.

"I'm sorry to hear things have been difficult. It sounds like a complicated situation", Arwen murmured gently. "I wish I knew how to advise you... but really the only thing that comes to my mind is that you should talk to him. Tell him how you feel, and that you do care about him all the same."

Lothíriel was silent for a bit, focused on making sure that she wouldn't start to sob like a child.

"I'm just scared he won't listen to me", she admitted in a whisper.

"Do you feel like that because you're scared of talking to him, or because you really believe he wouldn't want to hear you?" Arwen inquired. It was a good question, and Lothíriel decided they both knew the answer to it.

"Do you think... do you think we should break up?" she asked, and her voice was so strangled that it was a wonder her friend was able to make out the words.

"Sometimes it's the best decision and a relief for the both parties, but I cannot say if that is the right one in this case. I suppose you should ask yourself how does it make you feel", Arwen replied at length.

"Well... I do care about him so much, and when things are normal, it's so good to be together. But... if it will always be like this... if he's never going to really trust me or believe that I'm on his side... I don't think I could live like that", Lothíriel muttered and almost began to cry again. Her friend's hand brushed her back gently until this sensation passed, and then she pulled back a little bit, so that they stood face to face.

"And neither you shouldn't, Lothíriel", Arwen said seriously and held the younger woman's eyes with her own. "I think you know what you need to do, Lothíriel. Don't be scared to stand your ground. If he has forgotten the fact that you are the best thing that's happened to him in a long time, then it's his fault, not yours."

With those words, Arwen fished for a napkin in her purse and offered it to her friend. Lothíriel accepted it with thanks and patted her eyes. She was glad to see her makeup had not spread. Causing drama at Faramir and Éowyn's party was the last thing she wanted.

"Thanks, Arwen. You're a good friend", she said, smiling a little bit at last.

Arwen returned the smile.

"You're welcome", she simply replied and then gestured at the house, "Why don't we go back inside before people start to miss us?"

"I'll follow you in a moment. I guess I just need to catch my breath, if you get what I mean", Lothíriel said, and Arwen was graceful enough to allow her a moment to compose herself.

She spent a few more moments just breathing, eyes closed and hands resting on the wooden railing. Down below, the sea continued its eternal rise and fall. No, it would not be easy to face Éomer or try to make him see her side of things. Yet talking to Arwen had made her feel better and more resolute. She knew now she couldn't keep avoiding this; things would only get worse, perhaps beyond all repair. After tonight, she would –

There was a hand on her shoulder. She knew its weight, its constant warmth. Nobody else had a touch like this.

She almost jumped again, but this time was able to control her reaction. Instead, she turned around slowly.

Éomer stood right there next to her. His eyes were wide and sad and regretful as he stared at her.

"You heard the whole thing, didn't you?" she asked him weakly. He must have been on the patio as well, probably just around the corner where she couldn't see from her own spot.

"... yeah. Sorry. I didn't mean to be eavesdropping. I guess I was just in shock. I hadn't realised I'm that close to losing you", he replied, and his voice was low and rough.

She lowered her head and tried to come up with a new tactic. It had already been in her head, not quite firm in shape yet, but the general idea was clear enough... now he had taken her by surprise and thrown her off balance. And he sounded so upset, like the conversation he had overheard had really shaken him to his core.

"Look, I'm not going to make any excuses. I've been a horrible boyfriend and it's well within your rights to dump my stupid ass right here. No matter what problems or frustrations I have, it's not right to take it out on you. You deserve better and... I ought to know that. I thought I did", he spoke, quick and hoarse and more afraid than she had imagined him capable of being.

He took a deep breath and went on, "You've been nothing but gentle and patient and generous and yet I act like some suspicious idiot. I never intended that. So I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm sorry. I really am. I'll understand if that's not enough for you, but... if you can still find it in your heart to be generous and give me another chance, I promise to make it up to you. First thing on Monday morning, I'm going to see that shrink again and start sorting out this shit for good."

She knew he was not one for lies or pretensions. Even without that knowledge, the raw pain and self-resentment in his voice would have convinced her. And Lothíriel was not a cruel or vengeful person by nature. In the end, through all her doubt and sadness, she loved Éomer more than she loved herself,

So, with a small whimper, she threw her arms around him and almost burst out in tears of sheer relief. His own groan conveyed similar sentiment, and he pulled her tightly to himself, like he was scared she would vanish otherwise.

For a long moment they stood like that, holding one another and basking in relief. When Lothíriel was finally able to say anything, she sounded a little hysterical to her own ears.

"It's okay", she mumbled, only half-coherent inside her own head, "I don't want to lose you, either. I should have told you that sooner."

He made a low, coarse sound at the back of his throat. Then slowly, he pulled back a little bit so that he could see her face.

"We really need to have a long talk", he said to her seriously. "And this is not really the place or time for it... still, I'm glad you're willing to give it another shot."

"Yeah", she agreed softly, settling her hands against the back of his neck. "It's Éowyn and Faramir's party. We shouldn't just disappear five minutes we walked through the door... but I really do want to talk and set things right. And I care about you too much to not want to try again."

Hearing those words, he smiled slightly. It was his first smile in days and somehow, it simply melted her right there. For a second, she even thought about calling a taxi and getting out of this party immediately. However, it would be a rude thing to do, and they had all the time in the world to talk things through afterwards.

But Éomer bent his head down to her and captured her lips in a sweet, small kiss. He kept it brief, and yet it still held all the softness of reconciliation.

"Shall we go inside? I don't want you to get cold", he suggested warmly.

"Just tell me first I don't look like a mess", she replied in sheepish tones. She really didn't want anybody to think she had been crying, or worse: fighting with him.

"You look beautiful", he merely said and stared at her with such warmth and wonder that she imagined she could be wearing a potato sack and straw in her hair, and he would still tell her this exact thing.

"Well, in that case I guess we should get back inside", Lothíriel stated and reached to clasp his fingers inside her own. The solid feel of them made her want to sing and laugh in relieved joy.

Once more hand in hand, they made their way into the light again.

_To be continued. _

* * *

**A/N: **At last, I return with an update! I have had bit of a writer's block lately, but I believe it's over now. At the very least, I was finally able to get this chapter done.

To be honest, this chapter was a tough one even without a writer's block. I was not actually able to write out the argument as I imagined it would go. Eventually, I decided to have some mercy on myself and keep it vague, relaying only as much information as was necessary for the plot.

At any rate, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I wish you a Happy New Year!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

**EStrunk - **Glad to hear you liked it! I admit it was pretty fun to imagine what kind of a childhood home Modern AU!Lothíriel would have. :)

**xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - **Thank you!

**Catspector - **Yes, I think it was clear to Imrahil from the moment he saw them together that this is no mere fling for either of them. I think of Imrahil as a keen judge of character, but on the other hand, nobody who knows Éomer believes he is anything but a sincere and decent guy.

**Jo - **Thanks! :)

**Anon - **Happy to hear you liked it! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

After the party, a long talk was had and the air cleared with it. Lothíriel told her boyfriend how it had hurt her to see him pulling away and getting more entangled in painful memory, and how helpless she had felt when she did not know how to help him overcome it She explained how lonely she had started to feel, even when he was in the same room with her. Éomer confessed how difficult it was to both want to leave his past behind, and yet feel trapped by it. He spoke of his desire to spare her from it all, though now he realised it was not a viable option. And after a while, he said to her in a quiet voice how it terrified him to think of driving her away without really seeing what he was doing.

They both promised to do better and try harder to make this work.

Night passed as they sat up talking. In fact, the sunrise came as bit of a surprise, though by that time most important things had already been given words and voice. When both felt calm and content, they went to bed. Lothíriel passed out almost as soon as her head fell on his shoulder.

In retrospect, she really did feel pretty foolish about the whole affair. All it had taken was just telling him honestly how she felt, and he had opened up to her once more. She supposed it was a lesson for them both. There were still things they needed to learn about being a team.

All the same, on Sunday after the engagement party, things felt normal once again. They made breakfast together, spent a lazy couple of hours before going for a long walk in the harbour, and got back home to make some dinner and watch a film before getting to bed. A sense of relief still came to her at times, and she thought she could see something similar in his eyes when their gazes met.

Seeing they had now talked things through, Lothíriel also decided to relay her father a certain piece of information. It had to do with the notorious Bill Ferny, who in some ways was responsible for nearly destroying her relationship with Éomer. She had not forgotten what the odious reporter had said to her and it worried her for more reasons than just the possibility of causing trouble for the man she loved. If Mr Ferny did go through with his plan on writing a piece on her boyfriend, then Father ought to know of it and be prepared for possible consequences.

It was Monday when she called him to explain the issue to him. He listened to her in silence, and when she had finished, he let out a frustrated sigh.

"That is a troubling thing indeed. Were I a more ruthless man, I would contact an old friend of mine who sits in the board of directors for that paper... but it's no good thing for people of my standing to try and silence reporters – no matter how unwise or malicious their actions may be. But do not worry, dearest daughter. At the very least, I can have my lawyer explain to this man that if he bothers you again, he will have me to deal with", Father spoke, and towards the end of his speech, he sounded quite intimidating indeed.

Lothíriel shuddered a little bit. No matter how impudent Mr Ferny was, she could not imagine him faring well if Father decided to get involved.

She worried her lower lip for a second before she asked him, "Are you very put out about this, Father? I mean, the chance that our family might get that kind of publicity?"

Father seemed to know what it really was that made her uneasy.

"Of course I'm put out with him. That man should know better than to go digging for ancient dirt on decent people. But if you're asking if I'm displeased with Éomer, then no. It has been made very clear to me that he's not responsible for other people's actions", he answered. His voice grew even slightly amused and she knew why. She hadn't forgotten her little outburst at the restaurant while defending her boyfriend.

She let out a soft little laugh. Still, if she was entirely honest, she did feel relieved. It felt like Éomer was finally accepted into the family.

"I'm glad you think so", she said, smiling as she spoke.

"Indeed I do. All the same, I can't say that I like the idea of our family getting caught in the middle of some scandal. However, we have endured worse, and this Ferny person will soon realise we are a force to be reckoned with", Father said. He sounded like he might even enjoy such challenge.

"When you say it like that, I almost feel bad for the man", Lothíriel said with a slight shake of her head. "By the way, are you free for lunch tomorrow?"

"I believe so. I have a meeting in the morning, but I'll let you know if it runs late", he responded, and after a bit more small talk, they hung up.

Truth be told, Lothíriel felt much easier about Mr Ferny and his articles now that she knew that her father had her and Éomer's back.

* * *

_Thump thump thump. _

There was something very satisfying about the sound of fists pounding against a punching bag. The rapid fire of contact thrummed through his hands and arms, beat by beat, until he felt like the very strikes, his heart, and his breathing were all following that rhythm. His t-shirt was glued against his back and sweat trickled down his neck. Éomer rather enjoyed this sensation, the strain in his muscles that proved just what he could do. On the other hand, it had often been his chief method of stress relief. Difficult emotions were easier to handle that way – or ignore, like he was learning now that he was talking to the department's shrink.

However, this particular session was not about stress relief. He felt strong and energetic and purposeful. Now that things were back to normal with Lothíriel and he was finally dealing with all the trauma of his past, he felt like a new leaf had truly been turned.

He finished another bout and reached for his water bottle. After a couple quick sips, he rolled his shoulders and arms in preparation. Then he fell on the punching bag with renewed vigour.

In retrospect, even he had hard time understanding why he had behaved in such a manner. It was as if he had walked in a dark haze, unable to feel anything except anger. Lothíriel didn't deserve to be treated so no matter what his own troubles were, especially when she had done nothing but supported and cared for him. Well, he supposed he still had a lot to learn about being a good partner, and a lot of baggage to sort out. All the same, he had already sworn to himself he would never get so self-absorbed again, or forget what she meant to him. Perhaps it all went back to this deep-seated fear that she would leave him, too – and that slanderous articles by Bill Ferny would only hasten the eventual fallout. Now he realised that his own actions had impacted her much more than Ferny's skulking. Talk about life's small ironies.

Fortunately for him, Lothíriel was not a vindictive person. She was already back to her usual, sweet and caring self. It felt like she didn't even recall the affair anymore, and there was no reservation when she reached her hands to him and curled up against his side. At times, it still made him feel nearly dizzy with relief.

His pace became faster and faster. It felt like the punching bag was almost vibrating at the sheer rate and force of his blows. They did not come with frustrated energy, but with something that was eager and brimming. When had he last felt so full of life and resolution? Éomer could not answer that question.

"Seriously, lad, what did that bag ever do to you?" a voice asked behind him.

He turned around to see the owner of the gym, a man named Elfhelm. He was a smiling, bearded fellow in his forties – and with the meanest right hook Éomer had ever seen.

He cracked a smile at the older man. Having frequented the gym for some time now, they were becoming fast friends.

"It looked at me the wrong way", he quipped and Elfhelm let out a low, gravelly laugh.

"You ever think of becoming a professional? You've got the makings for it, I think", Elfhelm noted and seemed to size him up for a moment, as though already planning an illustrious career in sports for him.

"Not really. I prefer my current job", Éomer replied and began to undo his boxing gloves. As much as he had enjoyed this session, he'd have to get going soon. He was meeting Éowyn for coffee before heading home.

"Such a pity", Elfhelm said regretfully, but he did smile. Then in a softer tone, he added, "Glad to see you in better mood, though."

"Yeah. I decided some things have to change", said the younger of the two men. He met his friend's eyes in a way that bordered on defiant. But Elfhelm just smiled, like he had heard something that pleased him.

"That's the spirit", he said and reached to pat Éomer's shoulder. He cast a quizzical look at him, "Want to spar for a bit?"

"I'd love to, but I need to get going. I'm meeting my sister and she has a great love for punctuality", Éomer replied and picked up his water bottle and gloves.

"Another time, then", Elfhelm said and smiled arrogantly. "If you dare."

"How could I refuse, you cocky old bugger?" Éomer chortled and headed for the locker room.

After a quick shower and changing his clothes, he hurriedly made his way outside. Some twenty minutes later, he was on the front of that same café where he and Lothíriel had had their first official date. It was his favourite one now.

Éowyn was already there when he stepped inside. She waved her arm to catch his eyes, and he gave her a big smile and a nod of his head to let her know he had seen her. Then he headed for the counter to order. Once he had a big cup of coffee, he went to join his sister.

For a bit they were engaged in small talk and such, sharing the every day news of their lives. Éowyn looked hale and happy, much as she was these days. She chatted excitedly about her life and Faramir, and Éomer was glad to listen.

"You know", she said suddenly, "Only the othe day, a little bird told me that you won't have to be worried about Bill Ferny anymore. It's because his editor refused to print anything that is even slightly disrespectful towards this family. As it happens, our uncle is something of a hero these days. After all, he put away the most notorious criminal in this town's history, and did so at great personal cost", she told him in serious tones. Her grey eyes were more intense than her tone, and Éomer knew this was very important to her.

Be that as it may, she had read him right. She knew he had been worried about Bill Ferny as of late, and the fact this news would come to him as a relief. While Éomer knew now that Lothíriel – or any other important part of his life – could not be driven away by Ferny's story-spinning, he was still glad to hear that the hateful reporter's stories would not be printed.

He took a deep breath.

"Would this little bird be Faramir?" Éomer asked quietly. At the same time, he was slowly savouring the idea that their uncle was finally getting the credit he had deserved all along. If only the old man could be here to enjoy it.

"Of course it is. Faramir gets around quite a bit, you know", Éowyn said and grinned with unveiled pride.

"Good for him, I suppose", Éomer said; he was not surprised that such things would get to the ears of his sister's fiancé. Faramir and Aragorn – well, there was a pair to notice and discover just about anything.

"By the way, there was something else I wanted to talk about", she said suddenly and put down her mug. She lowered her tone as if to relay some kind of a serious secret, "You know we have been looking for a house for some time now. We really want to be settled down before the wedding, and the other day we finally found the right place. We'll be signing the deed of sale later this week."

"I'm glad to hear it. You'll have to tell me everything about this house", he said and smiled at her. His sister's happiness was one of the most important things in the world to him. Éowyn was bent on raising a big family; it was her way of coping with what they had lost. He suspected it was Faramir's method, too.

"And I will. But before I get to that, I was wondering... look, our landlady was sad to hear we're going. She was asking if I knew of anyone looking for a place to rent. And I immediately thought of you and Lothíriel. You keep complaining how cramped you are at her flat. There would be more space for you at my old flat", Éowyn explained and gestured about herself, as if to emphasise her argument – as if they were sitting in her living room right now. And she was right. Her place surely had a lot more space, her kitchen could be used by two people without constant collisions, and there was a spare bedroom which Éowyn had been using as her study.

Éomer admitted he was tempted by the idea. He and Lothíriel really were in the need of some additional space, and if things kept going smoothly... well, sooner or later they would have to think of it. She had been saying she wanted to do more painting at home, and the spare bedroom would be perfect for it. And he knew there was a so called hobby room in the basement, which would be perfect for tinkering projects.

"I'll have to talk to Lothíriel about it. I don't think she'd be opposed, though", he said at length and emptied his cup in a long swig.

"How are things going, anyway?" Éowyn asked and rested her chin on the cup of her hand.

"It's pretty good. There was bit of a rough batch, but we sorted things out. Thankfully", he replied and stared at the bottom of his cup and the dark remainders of coffee. His sister nodded empathically.

"I sensed there was something off for a bit. But I'm happy you made up. You hold on to that girl, Éomer. I don't know if you realise how much good she has done to you since you came home", said his sister in a serious tone.

"I have some inkling", Éomer replied softly. He knew well he would be much worse off if he hadn't met her, lonely and fractured and directionless. Without her, where would he be now? Still sleeping on his sister's couch, living irregularly and desperately looking for work? Altogether it was a debt he didn't think he could ever repay.

"That is good. The sweet ones never get enough credit for the good they bring into this world", Éowyn said firmly, got up on her feet, and went to get them refills.

* * *

Lothíriel did not jump at the idea of moving as quickly as Éomer himself had, though she did agree in the end. Before their recent difficulties, he might have thought it was because she felt ambivalent about the idea of really moving in with him. However, his trust in her was now more solid than ever, and perhaps was also his understanding of her character.

She was not slow to agree because she doubted the idea of a shared home. It was because she was feeling nostalgic about her flat and the idea of leaving it behind. It had been her first own home. What it came down to was that she needed to say goodbye.

However, after a chance to think it over, she told him they should take up Éowyn's offer. They needed more space, she liked the flat, and yes, she really did want to get more painting done at home. So it was decided.

The next couple weeks were busy with arrangements. Different kind of contracts needed to be terminated or made anew, notifications to civil registry, moving boxes obtained and cars rented... it was all more maddening than Lothíriel recalled from the first time. Thankfully, Faramir and Éowyn were going through the same thing, and so they were able to give one another a lot of good advice on which official to avoid and how to get paperwork processed with as little bother as possible.

The entire circle of friends was in a bit of an uproar over calls for aid and not one but two moves. First, there was Faramir and Éowyn packing up their old life and moving to the house they had bought. Second, Lothíriel and Éomer were to follow up by their relocation. Thankfully, she and him had fewer and smaller furniture than Éowyn and Faramir, who were already comfortably settled down, and Éomer was apparently able to summon a whole horde of not only off-duty police officers, but also several paramedics. As such, there was no shortage of helping hands – or bad jokes by Amrothos.

"Man, Éomer is really the most thoughtful guy I ever met. I mean, who else is prepared both for crime and accidents happening on his own moving day?" he would tell anybody who made the mistake of stopping to listen to him.

It was as hectic as could be expected. People walking in and out, excited chatter and noise as random pieces of furniture were moved, minor squabbles between a couple of know-it-alls who did not agree on how the bed should be carried down the stairs, Amrothos fluttering about in a hundred places at once to give advice nobody needed, and laughter by the rather miscellaneous moving crew as they bustled in and out of the apartment... it was all kind of bittersweet.

Lothíriel had very much agreed that a bigger flat was needed. Still, the actual move was more difficult than she had imagined. She had lived in her small flat for two years and grown a little bit attached to it. It was the place she had first spent a night with Éomer. In fact, it was their first home together. But even then, she was well aware they could not actually grow if they did not move out.

With the eager and vigorous company, their things were quickly moved out. So it was not long that the flat was empty, leaving her standing at the entryway, from where she could see both the living room and the bedroom. It looked so different now without the furniture.

Lothíriel felt a gentle hand on her waist.

"Look. I was sitting there where you found out you had aced that lab course", Éomer whispered in her ear. He was pointing at the spot where the love-seat had sat. It was gone now, and it wasn't going to make it to the new flat. It was too small. They needed more space for themselves and the guests in the new flat.

But there were also a thousand other things. Their first night together, all the breakfasts they had taken together, all those vital moments in the beginning... where he had knelt after their first fight.

"Yeah", she agreed softly, turning around to look at him. "It all feels overwhelming. I've lived in this flat since I moved out."

"I know", he replied with a warm smile and bent down his head to kiss her.

They both gave one more look around them. Both wanted to remember. However, moving on was as important as remembering. That fact was quite clear at this point.

The site of their new home was also a site of chaos. There were people, boxes, people, furniture, people... Amrothos was explaining something in a loud voice, though Lothíriel wasn't sure he had moved a single object while this move was going on. All the same, she and Éomer had provided the crew with beer and pizza. There was a general sense of fellowship and accomplishment when they finally sat around on floors or boxes, eating and drinking and laughing.

It did not stop feeling weird when the crowd was gone. While their belongings had already been brought in, and the floors were covered by boxes and such, the flat itself had an empty feeling to it. The living room especially was a work in progress. A new sofa was on its way, and they needed a new lamp and also a coffee table.

After a long day, the only thing they had energy left for was to search for clean linens, set up the bed in their new bedroom, and collapse there. For a while, they merely lay there, savouring the mood of this first night in their new home.

"Is it just me, or does it smell strange in here?" she asked him at length.

"It's just the building. Every place has a scent of their own. You probably didn't notice any at your own flat because you were used to it", he replied lazily, hands clasped under his head.

"Hmm. I guess", she agreed and turned on her side to face him. "It's much quieter here than at the old place."

"Yeah. I like it, too", he said and glanced at her with a smile. "Good for your painting, no?"

"Very much. It's hard to get in to that frame of mind when it's noisy", she said with a small grimace.

He made a soft sound at the back of his throat, turned towards her, and put his arms around her. For a while they remained so, each just drinking in this moment.

"Can you believe it?" she whispered at length. "This is really our first own home."

"It does make you a bit dizzy", Éomer agreed softly and pressed a kiss on her brow. "I'm glad to share it with you."

"As am I", Lothíriel said and lifted her face to kiss him properly. Then, pulling back, she gave him a quizzical look, "Do you think we need to buy a bigger bed, too?"

"Whatever for?" he muttered back and kissed her again.

"Because _someone_ seems to think they're a starfish whenever they sleep", she said breathlessly when he allowed her a moment to get some air.

Éomer let out a low chuckle.

"And if _someone_ minded it, they wouldn't behave like a proper constrictor", he replied against her lips.

"It's the only way I can get any sleep", Lothíriel shot back, although it was getting difficult to keep up the banter.

"Then what's the problem?" he asked good-naturedly, but at that point, she was simply too excited to come up with a clever answer. So she just pushed him on his back, straddled his hips, and shut him up with a kiss.

* * *

It was a good life.

Surely, it was much better than anything Éomer had dared to imagine when he had first come home from overseas with a weary, fractured heart and mind left with no more illusions. Was it too much to say that Lothíriel had saved him? Well, maybe nothing so dramatic. Rather, she had simply helped him to get on a better path.

They setted down in the new flat soon enough. First it had a bare, empty feeling to it: there was so much space compared to the old place. However, life has a way of growing and amassing. The new sofa arrived, and then other furniture there had not been a place for until now, and soon enough she set up her easel in the spare bedroom. Her brothers gave them prints of some of her favourite paintings as a house-warming gift, and Lothíriel framed the pictures. He set them up on walls and though he couldn't call himself a man with a fine taste in arts, he still thought they brought colour and life to their new home. Then Éowyn contracted Lothíriel with an enthusiasm for houseplants, and soon enough all the window boards were filled with many kinds of greenery.

The flat began to have a lived-in feeling in it.

It took Éomer only half a year to earn his detective's badge. True, it was not easily done, or without some long hours at work, but Lothíriel was there for him every step of the way. Though he knew she didn't enjoy his absence, she put aside her own misgivings and had his back as patiently as she ever had in other things. And Éomer was determined on making it up to her for as long as she would let him walk with her.

So went their days and weeks together, and little by little he learnt more of her, and she of him. She took him to art shows and theatre, teaching him more about culture than he had ever known before. Thanks to him, she developed an appreciation for sports, and when his first boxing match in the local amateur's league came, she was there cheering him as fiercely as any seasoned enthusiast.

And eventually, he really began to feel like her family was his, too. Dinners and holidays at her father's house became less unnerving, and more and more often Imrahil smiled at him with something that felt like approval.

Then there was her. A calm, gentle presence by his side, leading the way to a less chaotic and more whole existence. He loved her for it, just as he loved her smile, or her wit, or her joy of living that had stirred him awake, too.

As he looked ahead and imagined future, it was easier to see what shapes it might take. And, after so many noisy, mad years, what else could he ask for?

* * *

A bright autumn's day had turned into a golden afternoon. It was some two weeks after he and Lothíriel had spent their first anniversary together, and the memory of their celebrations of that event still brought a smile to his face.

He was climbing the stairs two at a time, eager to get to her after a busy day at work. In one hand, he carried a bottle of wine for the dinner tonight, which they would cook together. Under her guidance, he was becoming something of a decent cook – an event which would have surprised him a couple of years ago. Éomer allowed himself a private grin. He almost loved his job as much as he loved his girlfriend.

The flat was quiet when he entered, but he guessed she was just painting again, oblivious to the world in the middle of a burst of inspiration. It would not surprise him. Their home generally had a very good light – something she often praised – but today's bright rain of autumn sun was extraordinary even to an untrained eye.

"I'm home!" he announced himself as he kicked off his boots and hung up his jacket. No answer. Maybe she had gone to pick up the groceries?

As such, he didn't expect to discover Lothíriel sitting on the sofa. Her hair was in a messy braid and she was wearing one of his t-shirts and sweatpants. It was rare to see her in such state. While she wasn't particularly interested in fashion, she usually picked up her clothes rather carefully.

He also noticed her colour was off and she was staring straight ahead a bit like a deer would at a car's headlights. A number of worrisome thoughts instantly filled his mind. Was she ill? Maybe she had got some bad news?

"Hey there. Is something the matter?" Éomer asked, leaving the wine bottle on the dinner table.

"I'm fine", Lothíriel replied quickly. Her voice was high and shrill in pitch – most unlike her usual tone.

He went to take seat next to her and directed a keen, steady look at her.

"You don't look fine", he pointed out. While he wasn't so quick to lose his shit these days, this sliver of doubt still lived deep down in his soul. However, some time and a few intense sessions with a shrink had helped him to understand and check it without hysterical overreactions.

She seemed to take a deep breath and she closed her eyes for a moment. Then, as she opened them again, she lifted her hand. In it, she was holding a white, plastic object. And he was worldly enough to know what it was.

"It's positive", she said and somehow, her voice grew even higher. "I'm pregnant."

For a second, his brain simply shut down. He had no idea of what to do or what to say, so he just stared at her face in complete shock and surprise. She stared right back with wide, startled eyes and was still clutching the pregnancy test in her hand. When his faculties of thought began to return, his first instinct was to wonder at how this had happened, seeing they generally took precautions. But then he recalled a night few weeks back, stumbling home from a party at Éothain and Scýne, both blindingly drunk... no, they definitely had not been careful _then_. Just once was all it took.

And then Éomer felt like something warm and wondrous began to beat in his chest. Surprise and wonder made way to a steady acceptance of her news as a fact. He had never much thought about becoming a father – he had usually put it away for some unforeseeable date in future. However, right now he was considering it with every fibre of his being and he realised that he wanted it like he wanted air to breathe.

Ever so gently he reached his arms around her. Quickly she fell against him, trembling and terrified, as if she were in the need of his protection.

"Lothíriel", he said in a weak, shaky voice, "I want you to know that no matter what happens now, I'm right here. You don't have to be scared, okay? Whatever you want to do, I'll have your back."

She let out a small sob as she buried her face against his shoulder. Her hands held on to him very tightly and he could feel the uneven way she was breathing. No wonder she was in shock. She had probably thought about children even less than him.

"What are we going to do? Are we going to keep it?" she stammered at length.

"I... I would like that", Éomer admitted out loud and felt like his heart missed a beat. "But it's not just my decision. What do you want to do?"

"I honestly don't know", she replied, half hysterical, and clutched him even more tightly.

"Well, you don't have to say anything right away. I know it's a lot to take in", he reassured her gently and began to run his hand against her hair. "Are you okay?"

"Ask me tomorrow. Or maybe next week", she replied and let out a hysterical little laugh. The sound ended as a sob, and she whispered, "I'm scared, Éomer."

"No need to be. Modern medicine is very sensible about these things and we are two responsible adults, capable of taking care of each other and a baby. Like I said, you're not going to have to do this on your own", he reassured her firmly, and he felt like she relaxed a little bit in his lap. She let out a small sigh.

"I guess I just thought we had more time before this. I didn't think it would happen so quickly, even if... if I don't really mind having kids with you. But are we ready for this?" she asked him quietly.

He considered it for a moment before answering.

"Is anybody ever ready?" he asked back. "We make a decent living between our paychecks, our home has plenty of room, and we love each other. People have children in much worse conditions all the time, love, but we can actually give the little gremlin a good and safe home."

"Little gremlin? That's how you're going to call our baby?" she asked, laughing despite herself.

"Yeah. I think I will", Éomer said, smiling, and bent his head to kiss the top of her head. _Our baby_. He really liked the sound of that.

"So you really do want to do this", she stated, still resting her head against his shoulder.

"I do. Is that okay? You need to tell me right now, if it isn't. Lothíriel, I don't want you to feel like I'm pushing you into this", he told her evenly, although there was a slight twinge in his heart at the idea that she didn't want the child.

"I know that, love. Don't you worry about it. I'm not so stupid that I would have a child I didn't want just to appease to you. Look, I don't hate the idea of starting a family with you. I know you'll be a wonderful dad. This past year, it's like I've been watching you rebuild yourself in the front of my very eyes, and for me that's proof enough that you can do anything. I guess I'm just worried I'm not ready for this, or... or that I'll be a horrible mother and ruin the poor thing's life somehow", she admitted and glanced up quickly at him. Her eyes were damp and puffy and he loved her more than he could ever tell her.

"Honestly, I don't think you could ruin anything. You're the sweetest, most loving person I know and any kid would be lucky to have you for a mother", Éomer said. His heart was still racing in his chest, but at least his voice came out calm. With a gentle finger, he lifted her chin so that their eyes met, "Hey, there's no need to freak out. We'll figure this out together."

"... yeah", she agreed in a soft voice at last and raised herself so that she could kiss him. It was a slow, lingering one, and so he kept it on his own part, though he would dearly have liked to let her know just how happy a man she had made him.

Eventually, she settled down again and put her head on his shoulder. There they basked in that embrace, all dinner plans entirely forgotten.

"You know, I meant to marry you first", he said after a while. Now that the first shock had passed, he felt like a fit of laughter was starting to bubble deep inside his chest.

She scoffed gently.

"Let's not do that while I have a hard time fitting in most dresses", said Lothíriel in the voice of someone who is beginning to see all the humour in a situation that has previously disturbed them – and maybe accepting it as well.

"We could elope", he suggested half-seriously.

"And deny my family the megalomaniac wedding they are probably already planning? They would never forgive us", she replied.

"When you put it like that, I'm even more willing to risk it", Éomer shot back, and she laughed softly, her breath vibrating against his neck.

"Don't tempt me", she muttered and tightened the hold of her arm around him. "Though if I'm completely serious, I'd like to do it the old-fashioned way. Show the Bill Fernys of this town that it's time to turn a page."

Éomer knew what she meant. While Bill Ferny had been leaving them alone for a while now, the past still lay unburied. This union, this alliance between his family and hers, might be what it took to finally put the old scandals to rest. He didn't want to think in clichés but what was a better symbol for it than the baby she was carrying?

"Hold your horses. I haven't even proposed to you yet", he said and was surprised his voice did not sound more choked with emotion. He was already thinking of building the crib with his own hands – even if that was getting ahead of himself. Yet just imagining it made his heart beat a little faster.

Lothíriel cast him a smile.

"Who says you're the one who gets to propose?" she asked him sweetly, and he could not help but laugh. In this day and age, she was completely right.

"Nobody, I guess", Éomer replied and pulled her into a kiss once more.

In a way, it would be his greatest challenge yet. A child was a life-long responsibility and he did not think that raising one was going to be easy. However, in this moment it was not possible for him to feel unsure or afraid. If anything, he was hopeful and glad. And he would make sure that his son or daughter would get to live without the weight of the past.

* * *

_Several years later_

Lothíriel bounded down the stairs of her childhood home, stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders. It was Saturday, but a university teacher often had to put down fires even when "normal people" were enjoying a day off. Academia attracted some truly brilliant people, but they also tended to be workaholics or just lived in a whole another schedule than the rest of the world. As such, she sometimes had to work on the weekends, but thanks to modern technology, she could do it from her old bedroom even while visiting her father.

She loved her job. It had been offered to her when she had graduated, much to her own delight and Éomer's fierce pride. There was such clarity in the science itself and sometimes when she was out on university's boat or in the lab, she felt almost child-like wonder at how all things were connected. But she also loved teaching new students and watching them discover the vast, wondrous life that the sea supported in its lap.

Yet, as much as she loved the sea and her study of it, there was one thing she loved even more.

She came across Father in the hallway. He had a mug of coffee and a gardening magazine in his hand. Lothíriel hid her smile. Thus armed, he would be dead to the world for at least an hour. Now that Elphir was participating more in the family business, it allowed Father more time with his beloved hobby. How the professionals gardeners he had hired endured his enthusiasm, she wasn't sure – perhaps he was simply paying them enough.

"Well, how's the sea?" he asked pleasantly when he saw her.

"Still exists", she replied and tiptoed to kiss his cheek quickly. "Where are they?"

"Where do you think? You may want to go and make sure that some sea monster has not snatched them", he urged her, nodding towards the door.

"Against the will of Sergeant Éomundson? I don't think so", she laughed as she made her way to the entry hall.

It was a fair, warm day of summer. Father's garden was truly beautiful at this time of year with its multitude of colour and life. Although Lothíriel was eager to get to spend the rest of the afternoon with her family, she could not help but slow down a little bit to enjoy the sights and smells of the garden. Yet soon enough she began to near the path that lead down the hill and to the beach, and then she heard two very familiar voices. A big smile crept to her face.

Lothíriel discovered her husband and son on the beach. Judging by a cluster of bucket-shaped sand mounds, they were in the process of building some kind of a sand town. Éomer was digging a proper moat for the village, while Elfwine happily filled yet another bucket with damp sand. Both looked to have dipped in the sea at least once and she imagined she would be finding sand in their home for several weeks to come.

"Mama!" Elfwine exclaimed. His little face was lit by a huge smile and clumsily he got up on his feet to come meet her.

He was four years old. His dark hair was a messy cloud about his face, which already bore a striking resemblance to her own father, who was as proud of his grandson as could be imagined. Elfwine's eyes were, however, as deep and dark as Éomer's, and there was something about the child's air that keenly reminded her of her husband.

"There you are, sweetie! Are you having fun?" she asked him as he dashed into her arms, and she lifted him up. He was getting so big these days, it wouldn't be long before he was going to be too heavy for her.

"Yeah! We're building Helm's Deep!" Elfwine said excitedly and began to explain in broken sentences the whole building process.

Lothíriel smiled at her husband, who was on his feet now, over the child's shoulder.

"Is Helm's Deep supposed to have a moat?" she asked him good-naturedly. She wasn't surprised he was telling Elfwine stories about his side of the family. Their history certainly was more adventurous than her own. Éomer surely knew how to spend his days off duty, even if his continuing rise through the ranks meant more responsibility and being ready for duty in case of emergencies on his free days. It was not always easy, but the years had taught Lothíriel valuable lessons about partnership. You could not own the person you loved, and by always making them choose between you and their calling was a sure way to lose them.

"It does now", Éomer replied with a shrug and a charming grin.

Laughing softly, she eased Elfwine back on the soft sand of the beach. He hurried back to the building project and resumed filling up his bright green bucket.

"Are you done for the day? And the university is still standing?" asked Éomer as he snaked his arms around her.

"I should think so, but you never know with scientists", Lothíriel replied and tiptoed to kiss him. He snorted in laughter, probably recalling the way she had gone a bit mad while finishing her thesis before graduating.

"Indeed", he said and readily returned her kiss.

"Just wait until I get my professorship", she said in mock warning.

"How is that a bad thing? I can't wait for when I get to introduce you as 'my wife, the Professor'", Éomer stated cheerfully. She couldn't help but laugh.

The afternoon passed quietly in the endeavour of building the sand version of Helm's Deep. Lothíriel enjoyed the calmness of it; between her and Éomer's jobs, it wasn't always easy to find time for just the three of them. At least Elfwine had a big enough family never to feel left alone, and it was moderately easy to find him babysitters when his parents were working long hours. In fact, Lothíriel felt like her father might just quit his day job in order to look after his grandchildren, if she simply asked.

Helm's Deep ended up having quite an impressive mass of buildings, agricultural designs complete with watering systems for the fields, and it probably had little to do with the real thing. However, watching the glee on the faces of her two builders, she was glad.

They headed back to the house when Elfwine started to get hungry. Father had prepared a meal, which they took with him once most of the sand had been brushed off and Elfwine had got a quick wash and a change of clothes. When they were seated around the dining table, he started to excitedly tell his grandfather about the sandcastle. Imrahil had no shortage of indulging questions or warm interest in Elfwine's stories.

Lothíriel watched her son as much as she did her husband. Seeing the peaceful look in his eyes when he regarded his little family, something dear and grateful grew in her own breast. Gone was that raw restlessness he had worn like a second skin in the early days of their relationship, and even his anger was softer and slower these days. He had grown and changed, and was now twice the man he had ever been. Becoming a father had transformed him in subtle, but profound ways.

When they had eaten dinner and the table was cleared, Father promised to look after Elfwine and put him to bed. No doubt he would soon be nodding off anyway, having spent most of the day on the beach.

Lothíriel and Éomer were quick to accept the offer. If moments for the family were precious these days, so were the times they could be alone with one another.

In silent agreement they made their way back to the beach. The sun was setting, but the air was still and balmy. She hadn't bothered to put on any shoes, and it would have been unnecessary anyway, as the sand was still warm from sunlight. It was quite pleasant – and rather romantic, as Lothíriel silently noted in approval.

They made their way slowly down the beach, talking quietly of everyday matters and sometimes falling into a companionable silence. In a hectic life of work and child-rearing, such a peaceful moment was a treasure.

After a while Éomer grew quiet. His hand remained in hers, but his expression was thoughtful, like he was looking deep inside rather than ahead.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked him and squeezed his hand gently.

He turned his head to look at her and a faint smile appeared on his features.

"I was just remembering", he said softly, almost incredulously. "And thinking of when we first met. The day I sat in that library... and finding you staring at me when I looked up. Little did I guess then that I was looking at the woman I would marry."

She blushed at that memory.

"You must have thought I was such a weirdo", she said and let out an awkward little laugh.

He leant down to quickly kiss her temple.

"I was and am hardly in a position to judge that. Lothíriel, I was a homeless, broken thing when we first met. And yet you never hesitated when you took me in and let me in your life. I wonder if you even realise what you did for me – what you still do. Who knows where I would be now without you and Elfwine?" he said to her seriously, and his eyes had a keen, burning light in them.

Her chest felt tight with emotion and a dampness crept to her eyes. Quickly she wrapped her arms around him and hid her face in his chest. His arms came around her in that same instant.

"Well, I'm glad I did. I think we pushed one another to better paths than the ones we were walking on at the time", she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. She thought of the way she had struggled with her studies, and how seeing him rebuild his life and himself had inspired her to work harder.

It was no small thing, finding the person who inspired you to do better.

Lothíriel lifted her head and met his eyes, which were regarding her with that warmth and tenderness that never faltered. She gave him a big smile.

"And truth is, it has been amazing to watch you rise again, and to see the way you shine. You have proven every nay-sayer in this town how wrong they are about you and your family", she said, hoping that her expression would reveal her pride for his sake as much as her words. In a softer tone she added, "I think your uncle would be proud of you."

The years had softened the pain of Théoden's passing, turning it into a gentle grief and acceptance. It glowed now in Éomer's eyes, and yet it was mingled with the love he still had for the man who had raised him. He said nothing – he merely cupped her face between his hands and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on her brow. Then he pressed his forehead against the top of her head, and so they stood there as the sun slowly fell beneath the waves and evening deepened.

"Thank you for giving me that chance", he whispered at last, quiet but full of wonder.

"No need to thank me", she uttered back, smiling brightly as she did. He returned it and gave her one more kiss.

His hand found hers in the deepening shadow of evening and in silent agreement they continued their walk down the beach. There was a faint breath in the air now and she thought she could smell rain in it. But for the time being, it was warm and pleasant, Elfwine was safe and sound with her father, and she and her husband had a whole night before them.

Indeed, it was a good life.

* * *

**The End.**

* * *

**A/N: **Here is the final chapter of this story! I admit I did not really have anything more to say about this particular plotline, so I decided to finish it here. Moreover, there is actually a new story I want to spend more time working on. The first chapter of it is already done, so I think I will be publishing it fairly soon.

As ever, I am grateful for all your favourites, follows and comments. Thank you for joining me on yet another Éothiriel journey!

* * *

**Catspector - **That is quite true! Life does have its hardships, but they are more than willing to work through them! :)

**EStrunk -** Yes, it was a bit difficult for me to write as well. But also interesting to see how they would react in that situation.

**xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - **Thank you! :)

**Rho67 - **Glad to hear you think so! And though it was not the easiest thing to write, I also think it was something that would happen sooner or later - and he would have to face these issues eventually.

**Jo - **Thanks! :)

**Guest - **Glad you liked it! :)


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